••••••••••••••••iiiij 


Illinois  in  the  Fifties 


' 


Lincoln   in   the   Fifties. 
(From  historical  collection  of  H.  W.  Fay,  DeKalb,  111.) 


Illinois  in  the  Fifties 


OR 


A  Decade  of  Development 


1851  - 1860! 


BY 

CHARLES  BENEULYN  JOHNSON,  M.  D. 
Author  of  Muskets  and  Medicine 

Illinois  Centennial  Edition 


There  are  no  days  like  the  good  old  days, — 

The  days  when  we  were  youthful; 
When  humankind  was  pure  of  mind, 

And  speech  and  deeds  were  truthful. 

— Eugene  Field. 


Flanigan-Pearson  Co.,  Publishers 

Champaign,  111. 

1918 


COPYRIGHT  1918 

BY 
CHABLES  B.  JOHNSON 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 
THAT  DEVOTED  BAND  OF  ILLINOISANS, 

WHO  IN  THE  FIFTIES, 

UNDER  THE  LEADERSHIP  OF  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN, 
STEADFASTLY  OPPOSED  THE  FURTHER  EXTENSION 

OF  HUMAN  SLAVERY, 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  DEDICATED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


There  were  Giants  in  Those  Days. 


FOREWORD 


One  hundred  years  ago  Illinois  became  a  State  and 
began  making  history.  In  that  history  no  period 
is  of  more  interest  and  importance  than  the  Fifties, 
which  in  the  fullest  sense  was  a  decade  of  devel- 
opment. During  that  decade  in  wealth  and  population 
the  State  advanced  from  eleventh  to  fourth  place  among 
her  sister  commonwealths.  Meantime  railway  construc- 
tion increased  more  than  tenfold  and  finally  the  total 
mileage  in  operation  in  Illinois  was  exceeded  by  Ohio 
alone.  Iii  1860  the  Prairie  State  distanced  all  rivals 
in  the  production  of  corn,  wheat  and  oats. 

But  beyond  and  above  all  this  in  that  remarkable 
decade  Illinois  became  the  arena  upon  which  was  staged 
one  of  the  world's  great  forensic  contests — the  Lincoln- 
Douglas  debate  of  1858. 

In  this  volume  the  author  has  endeavored  to  describe 
things,  people  and  conditions  as  he  saw  and  knew  them 
in  the  Fifties. 

CHAMPAIGN,  ILLINOIS,  1918.  C.  B.  J. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — THE   PlONEEB   AND   HIS    ENVIRONMENT 11-   26 

II. — A  PROGRESSIVE  PIONEER  AND  THE  EVOLUTION  OF 

A  HOME  __• _     27-  35 

III. — THE  GOLD  SEEKERS  OF  THE  LATE  FORTIES 36-  48 

IV. — THE    STAGE-DRIVER,    STAGE-COACH,    STAGE-HAND 

AND  AN  ORIGINAL  DR.  JEKYL  AND  MR.  HYDE.     49-  57 

V. — A  COUNTRY  STORE  IN  THE  FIFTIES 58-""67 

VI. — CHURCHES,  CHURCH  PEOPLE  AND  PREACHERS  IN 

THE  FIFTIES  68-  75 

VII. — SPORTS,  AMUSEMENTS  AND  SOME  OTHER  THINGS    76-  84 

VIII. — THE  VILLAGE  LYCEUM  AND  SOME  LOCAL  PETTI- 
FOGGERS         85-  89 

IX. — AN   OLD-TIME  WATER-MILL   90-  96 

X. — SCHOOLS,   SCHOLARS  AND  TEACHERS 97-107 

XI. — IN  AND  ABOUT  AN  ILLINOIS  CORNFIELD  IN  THE 

FIFTIES    108-116 

XII. — BOOKS,  PERIODICALS  AND  OTHER  READING  MAT- 
TER IN   THE  FIFTIES   117-122 

XIII. — THE  VILLAGE  DOCTORS   123-134 

XIV. — RAILROADS  AND  OTHER  METHODS  OF  TRAVEL  AND 

TRANSPORTATION    135-141 

XV. — ELECTIONS,   PARTIES   AND  POLITICS 142-148 

XVI. — SLAVERY  AND  THE  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATE 149-175 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING  PAGE 

Lincoln  in  the  Fifties Frontispiece 

Weaving  on  a  Hand-Loom 16 

Old-Time    Spinning   Wheel    16 

Type  of  Log  House  Common  in  the  Early  Fifties 26 

Pioneer  Fireplace,  Cooking  Utensils,  Etcetera 26 

Franklin  House   (Stage-Stand),  Greenville,  111 50 

Stage-Coach    50 

An  Up-to-date  Church  in  the  Mid-Fifties 68 

Visit  to  the  Hive 74 

Brown's  Mill 90 

Pioneer  Log  School  House 98 

Slab-Seat  Used  in  Pioneer  Schools 98 

Pocahontas   School   House    ("Academy") 104 

Prairie-Plow   116 

Iron  Kettle,  Ash-Hopper,  Etcetera 116 

A  Mid-Nineteenth  Century  Ideal  Milk-Maid 130 

Grain-Cradles,  Reap-Hook,  Etcetera 140 

Early  McCormick  Reaper  and  Mower . 140 

Type  of  Frame  House  Common  in  the  Late  50's 148 

Bedstead,  Trundlebed  and  Other  Articles  of  Utility 148 

Senator  Stephen   A.   Douglas 162 


CHAPTER   I. 
THE  PIONEER  AND  His  ENVIRONMENT. 

No  past  is  dead  to  us,  but  only  sleeping. 

—Helen  Hunt. 

Wondrous  and  awful  are  thy  silent  halls, 
O  kingdom  of  the  past ! 

— James  Russell  Lowell. 

With  the  advent  of  the  early  fifties  the  real  pioneer 
days  in  Illinois  were  nearing  their  end.  The  one-room 
log  cabin  was  giving  place  to  the  frameMwelling  of  one, 
two,  or  more  rooms.  The  water-mill  had  nearly,  or 
quite,  displaced  the  last  horse-mill. 

The  slow,  but  always  dependable,  ox-team  and  heavy 
ox  wagon,  were  fast  disappearing  before  the  approach 
of  the  quicker  moving  horse-team  and  lighter  horse 
wagon.  The  wooden  mold-board  plow  was  being  rele- 
gated to  fence  corners,  and  in  its  place  was  a  much  lighter 
and  more  sightly  implement  made  largely  of  iron  and 
steel. 

In  lieu  of  the  hoe,  which  many  had  used  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  growing  corn,  a  bright,  well-scoured  "dia- 
mond-plow", drawn  by  a  quick-stepping  horse,  jnade 
relatively  rapid  and  easy  work.  In  place  of  the  reap- 
hook  and  "cradle"  for  cutting  grain,  and  the  scythe  for 
mowing  grass,  a  combined  reaper  and*  mower  did  the 
work  of  ten  men. 

Perhaps  a  brief  description  of  the  cabin  which  the 
frame  house  was  rapidly  displacing  may  interest  the 
reader  who  today  lives  in  the  modern  home  with  its 

(ID 


12  Crude  but  Useful 

steam-heat,  electric  lights  and  a  thousand  and  one  con- 
veniences which  money  and  inventive  genius  have 
brought  within  the  reach  of  the  average  American. 

The  pioneer's  heat-plant  was  simple  in  the  extreme, 
though  its  fireplace  and  hearth  made  of  flat  stones  oc- 
cupied a  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  one  end  of  his 
one-room  cabin.  The  chimney  was  jnade  of  split  sticks 
of  wood  and  clay  and  ran  up  on  the  outside  of  one 
end  of  the  building.  The  clay  was  first  made  into  a 
kind  of  mortar,  and  with  this  the  sticks  were  freely  plas- 
tered. The  fireplace  was  so  large  that  backlogs  for  it 
had  to  be  rolled  in  at  the  door,  instead  of  being  carried 
in  by  hand.  The  forestick  and  other  pieces  of  wood 
rested  on  "dog-irons"  and  were  thus  kept  about  four 
inches  above  the  hearth  level. 

At  one  side  of  the  fireplace,  on  pegs  driven  in  the 
logs,  hung  pots,  kettles,  skillets,  pans  and  various  other 
utensils  used  by  the  good  housewife  in  cooking.  There, 
also,  stood  the  cupboard  made  of  smoothly  dressed  wal- 
nut boards,  and  which  contained  knives,  forks,  spoons 
and  the  blue-edged  dishes  which  adorned  the  table  at 
meal  time.  In  the  corner  wras  a  rude  shelf  resting  on 
oak  pegs,  and  upon  this  was  a  wooden  bucket  filled  with 
water  for  drinking  and  cooking  purposes.  Hanging  on 
a  peg  beside  the  water  bucket  was  a  gourd,  the  pioneer's 
drinking  vessel.  Next  came  the  dining-table,  with  both 
leaves  folded  down,  standing  snugly  against  the  wall  out 
of  the  way. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace,  six  feet  from  the 
floor,  just  beneath  the  ceiling  and  resting  on  wooden 
hooks,  was  the  long-barreled,  flint-lock,  Kentucky  squir- 
rel rifle.  The  stock  ran  the  whole  length  of  the  barrel, 
was  made  of  white  walnut  and  from  much  use,  added 


The  Pioneer's  Rifle  13 

to  the  polishing  of  the  gunsmith,  had  become  as  smooth 
as  ivory.  The  mounting  was  all  of  well-finished  brass. 
Near  the  butt  of  the  stock  and  sunk  in  it,  was  a  cavity 
one  inch  in  width,  one  inch  deep  and  five  inches  in 
length,  covered  with  a  brass  lid  which  opened  by  one 
spring  and  was  held  in  place  by  another.  It  was  used 
for  carrying  tallow  with  which  to  lubricate  the  "patchen" 
that  was  made  to  cover  the  bullet  when  loading  the  rifle. 
Hanging  from  one  of  the  hooks  on  which  the  gun  rested, 
was  the  bullet  pouch  and  powder  horn.  The  pouch  was 
made  of  strong  leather,  usually  buckskin,  and  had  two 
or  three  pockets  for  carrying  bullets,  cloth  for  patchen 
and  such  other  articles  as  a  hunter  might  need. 
The  powder  horn  was  made  from  a  cow's  horn  and 
had  the  larger  end  securely  closed;  in  the  smaller  end 
was  fitted  a  stopper  that  could  be  easily  removed  and 
put  back  in  place.  Both  the  bullet  pouch  and  powder 
horn  were  supplied  with  straps  'for  throwing  over  the 
shoulder  when  it  was  desired  to  carry  them.  Hanging 
from  the  other  wooden  hook  was  a  large  horn  open  at 
both  ends,  but  with  the  smaller  of  these  smoothed  and 
beveled  so  it  could  be  placed  to  the  lips  for  the  purpose 
of  blowing.  This  the  hunter  used  to  call  the  hounds 
when  they  went  beyond  the  sound  of  his  voice. 

Leaning  against  the  wall  in  the  corner  under  the  butt 
of  the  rifle  was  a  double-barreled  shotgun,  from  the 
muzzle  of  which  hung  a  powder-horn  and  shot-pouch; 
the  latter  containing  supplies  of  shot  of  various  sizes 
and  also  a  box  of  percussion  caps.  The  shotgun  and 
its  equipment  were  more  especially  for  the  boys  in  the 
family,  pater  familias  preferring  the  rifle.  Against  the 
wall  near  the  shotgun  was  a  candle-stand,  a  little  table 
with  a  top  about  two  feet  square,  under  this  a  drawer, 


14  Bed  Furnishings 


all  supported  on  slender,  turned  legs  and  ,made  of  wal- 
nut. On  the  candle-stand  was  a  large  Bible  and  a  "this- 
year's"  Almanac.  Above  the  candle-stand  was  the  one 
window  in  the  cabin,  which  contained  six  6  x  6  panes 
of  glass. 

A  little  distance  from  the  window  was  a  door  which 
swung  on  wooden  hinges,  fastened  with  a  wooden  latch, 
and  raised  and  lowered  by  a  strong  leather  string,  which 
passed  through  a  hole  and  left  the  free  end  hanging 
outside.  Of  nights  when  the  pioneer  wished  to  lock 
his  door,  he  had  but  to  pull  in  the  string;  when  morn- 
ing came  and  he  desired  to  unlock  his  door,  he  had  but 
to  pass  the  string  through  the  hole  just  above  the  latch. 
Hence  the  origin  of  the  pioneer  phrase,  "The  latch- 
string  is  on  the  outside" — the  equivalent  of  saying: 
"Come  in;  you  are  welcome!" 

In  the  corner  behind  the  door  was  a  bed  upon  which 
was  a  huge  feather  tick  and  over  which  were  the  usual 
sheets  and  blankets;  but  over  all  a  beautiful,  home- 
woven  counterpane,  usually  blue  and  white,  but  fre- 
quently pure  white.  In  the  opposite  corner  was  an- 
other bed,  the  precise  duplicate  of  the  first,  and  on 
both  were  two  large  pillows  in  cases  or  slips,  with  beau- 
tifully-wrought and  embroidered  edges.  Under  one  of 
the  beds  would  often  be  a  trundlebed,  which  ran  on 
rollers.  When  bedtime  came  the  trundlebed  was  rolled 
out  for  the  small  children  to  sleep  in;  and  in  the  morn- 
ing rolled  back  under  the  bed,  out  of-  sight  and  out  of 
the  way.  Around  the  exposed  sides  of  the  bed  would 
be  a  valance,  or  a  kind  of  curtain,  which  reached  from 
just  above  the  bedrail  to  the  floor.  Sometimes  the  val- 
ance was  made  of  white  muslin  and  sometimes  of  some 
colored  material.  In  the  event  there  was  no  trundle- 


The  "Chist"  15 

bed  the  space  under  the  bed  was  always  utilized  for  stor- 
ing some  article  or  articles.  It  may  have  been  a  trunk, 
a  basket  of  peaches,  or  in  cold  weather,  maybe  the  half 
of  a  just-butchered  hog  might  be  put  there  to  be  kept 
over  night. 

Against  the  wall  between  the  beds  was  a  chest,  often 
called  "chist".  In  this  was  kept  the  nicer  counterpanes 
and  pillowslips,  the  women's  Sunday  clothes  and  certain 
articles  of  men's  wear.  At  one  end  of  the  chest,  and  just 
beneath  the  lid,  was  a  little  box  or  till,  opening  with  a 
lock  and  key,  and  in  this  were  kept  the  deeds  and  other 
valuable  papers  and  smaller  keepsakes. 

In  the  better  cabins  the  floors  were  made  of  evenly- 
sawed  oak  boards,  but  as  these  became  seasoned  they 
grew  narrower  and  left  cracks  between,  through  which 
the  cold  wind  came  in  winter.  In  the  ruder  cabins  the 
floors  were  made  of  puncheons — that  is  to  say,  slabs 
flat  on  one  side  and  rounded  on  the  other.  Puncheon 
floors  were  always  laid  with  the  flat  side  up.  Overhead 
were  strong  heavy  beams  often  of  unhewed  logs.  On 
these  beams  were  rough  boards  that  constituted  the  ceil- 
ing of  the  main  room  and  the  floor  of  the  loft,  which 
by  courtesy  might  have  been  called  the  attic.  The  loft 
was  reached  by  a  ladder  that  started  from  the  cabin- 
floor  and  ran  up  alongside  the  Kentucky  rifle,  and 
reached  the  loft  through  a  trapdoor.  In  the  loft  was 
sometimes  a  bed  where  some  members  of  the  family  could 
sleep  in  case  there  was  company — and  here  of  winter 
mornings  the  sleepers  would  sometimes  waken  to  find 
their  beds  covered  with  snow  that  had  sifted  in  between 
the  shingles,  or  rather  clapboards,  of  the  roof. 

Hanging  from  the  rafters  would  be  festoons  of  dried 
apples,  dried  pumpkin,  dried  peaches,  peppers,  bunches 


Weaving,  Spinning  and  Carding 


of  sage  for  seasoning  the  sausage;  bunches  of  penny- 
royal to  "sweat"  the  sick  ones;  bunches  of  boneset  to 
"break  the  ager";  strings  of  stuffed  sausage;  chunks  of 
dried  beef;  and  last,  old  hats,  caps  and  various  other 
articles  that  had  seen  better  days.  Among  the  last  might 
be  the  coat  that  grandfather,  a  Revolutionary  veteran, 
wore  at  the  battle  of  Guilford  Court  House. 

Crowded  as  was  the  cabin,  it  at  times  had  one  more 
thing  that  took  up  no  little  floor-space,  namely,  a  loom 
for  weaving  cloth,  carpets,  etc.  The  loom  of  that  day 
was  a  crude,  heavy,  awkwardly  constructed  contrivance, 
made  almost  entirely  of  wood.  But,  cumbersome  and 
unwieldy  as  it  was,  the  housewife  somehow  managed  to 
weave  in  plenty  upon  it,  jeans  for  the  men- folks  of  the 
family,  and  linsey  for  the  women-folks.  Indeed,  some  of 
the  more  skillful,  wove  pretty  coverlets,  handsome  coun- 
terpanes and  beautiful  pillowcases,  besides  other  articles 
of  use  and  ornament. 

Another  thing  that  claimed  cabin  floor-space  was  the 
spinning-wheel,  a  true  running-mate  of  the  loom.  This 
was  usually  operated  by  a  young  woman,  and  her  quick 
walking  to-and-fro  and  other  alert  movements,  accom- 
panied by  the  rhythmical  hum  of  the  fast-revolving 
wheel,  are  memories  that  will  never  pass  from  the  mind 
of  the  elderly  man  or  woman. 

But  before  the  wool  could  be  spun  it  had  to  be  carded ; 
an  operation  that  was  generally  left  to  an  elderly  female 
if  there  was  such  a  one  in  the  family.  And  a  picture, 
which  can  never  be  effaced  from  memory's  tablet,  is 
that  of  a  grandmother,  her  placid  features  framed  in  the 
frill  of  her  cap,  seated  in  a  low,  split-bottom  chair,  and 
in  her  hand  a  pair  of  cards  which  she  was  slowly  pull- 


Weaving  on  a  Hand-Loom. 
(Courtesy  of  W.  A.  Kelsoe,  St.  Louis,  Mo.) 


Spinning-Wheel. 
(Courtesy  W.  A.  Kelsoe,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 


Plain  but  Wholesome  17 

ing  to-and-fro  while  the  wool  between  their  teeth  was 
working  into  a  roll. 

Speaking  of  caps,  in  this  connection,  it  may  not  be  out 
of  place  to  say  that  in  that  day  most  women  of  forty- 
five  and  beyond  wore  these;  they  were  usually  white  in 
color,  made  of  some  light  cotton  material  and  faced  with 
a  frill  of  some  kind  of  lace  work.  These  caps  came 
down  below  the  ears,  were  becoming,  and  grew  more 
and  more  so  with  advancing  years. 

Three  times  every  day  a  meal  was  cooked  on  the 
stone  hearth  and  over  the  fireplace.  Three  times  every 
day  the  table  would  be  pulled  out  in  front  of  the  fire- 
place, the  leaves  raised,  a  cloth  spread  over  it,  and  the 
blue-edged  dishes  placed  upon  it  in  proper  order.  One 
of  the  most  useful  cooking  utensils  was  the  "spider",  a 
skillet  with  legs  and  a  heavy  iron  cover  the  outer  edge 
of  which  was  turned  up  to  hold  the  red  coals  that  were 
put  upon  it  in  baking.  In  the  center  of  the  rounded  top 
of  the  lid  and  part  of  it,  was  an  open  handle,  a  sort  of 
flattened  ring  of  cast  iron  into  which  the  poker,  or  one 
prong  of  the  tongs,  could  be  pushed  for  lifting  the  lid 
when  it  was  hot,  or  loaded  with  coals.  Under  the  spi- 
der, and  between  its  legs,  red  coals  would  be  thrust  when 
cooking  or  baking  some  article,  such  as  biscuit,  bread, 
pies,  cake,  potatoes,  etc.  The  tea-kettle  was  heated  di- 
rectly on  the  fire,  the  coffee-pot  boiled  on  coals  placed 
on  the  hearth;  meat,  eggs,  bacon  and  ham  were  fried 
in  a  skillet  placed  on  the  burning  wood-fire.  In  a  much 
larger  spider,  called  an  oven,  light  wheat-bread  and  light 
corn-bread  were  baked.  All  old  people  were  of  one 
mind  in  asserting  that  food  cooked  at  the  old-time  fire- 
place had  a  taste  and  flavor  that  the  new-fangled  cook- 
stove  could  never  impart. 


18  Before  the  Day  of  Matches 

But  stooping  over  the  hearth,  with  her  face  and  head 
over  the  fire,  was  trying  to  the  housekeeper.  Then 
sometimes  a  stick  of  wood  would  unexpectedly  burn  in 
two,  and  over  would  turn  the  tea-kettle;  or  maybe 
worse  yet,  a  pot  with  contents  for  a  boiled  dinner;  this 
would  result  in  water,  or  meat  and  turnips,  spilling  and 
running  over  the  fire  and  hearth,  a  cloud  of  steam  and 
smoke,  and  the  fire  all  but  "put  out". 

The  fire  shovel  that  stood  against  the  chimney  jamb 
was  a  much,  used  implement.  With  it  the  housewife 
punched  the  fire  in  an  effort  to  encourage  its  burning; 
and  with  it  she  put  coals  under,  and  on,  the  spider;  and 
on  the  hearth  for  heating  other  vessels.  Beside  the 
shovel  were  the  tongs  provided  with  two  long  arms,  with 
flattened  extremities,  for  picking  up  burning  embers. 
Hanging  against  the  wall  was  a  pair  of  pothooks  for 
lifting  various  hot  or  sooty  vessels. 

With  the  advent  of  the  fifties,  matches  came  into  gen- 
eral use.  Previous  to  this  the  fire  on  the  hearth  was 
never  expected  to  go  out.  If  it  did,  some  one  went  to 
a  neighbor's  with  shovel  or  tongs  and  brought  back  some 
live  coals. 

If  the  neighbor  lived  at  a  distance,  or  the  weather 
was  inclement,  some  powder  would  be  put  in  the  pan 
of  the  flint-lock  rifle,  a  piece  of  cotton  held  beside  it, 
then,  when  trigger  was  pulled,  a  spark  from  the  flint 
ignited  the  powder;  it  in  turn  set  fire  to  the  cotton,  and 
this  while  blazing,  was  hurriedly  transferred  to  paper 
in  the  fireplace  where  a  little  later  a  fire  would  be 
roaring. 

The  food  was  plain  and  simple.  In  pioneer  days 
corn  bread  and  salted,  smoked  pork  were  the  staples. 
Later  wheat  bread  was  added,  varied  with  cakes  made 


The  Simple  Life  19 


from  buckwheat  flour.  Coffee  of  mornings,  and  tea  at 
night,  were  for  the  older  members  of  the  family.  The 
younger  members  drank  water  and  milk,  and  with  the 
latter,  all  frequently  ate  corn  mush.  In  winter  selected 
kernels  of  corn  were  treated  with  lye  which  removed 
the  hull,  after  which  the  grains  were  boiled  or  fried. 
This  was  "big  hominy"  and  was  a  wholesome,  satisfy- 
ing article  of  diet.  A  few  paces  from  the  kitchen  door 
was  the  smokehouse,  a  roughly  constructed  building, 
without  ceiling  or  plaster.  It  was  in  this  that  the  newly 
salted  pork  was  hung  to  be  smoked  by  keeping  under  it 
a  smothered  fire,  preferably  of  hickory  wood.  Hams 
cured  in  this  way  had  a  rare  flavor  no  other  curing 
process  could  impart.  On  shelves  in  the  smokehouse 
thrifty  housekeepers  had  jars  of  lard  and  others  of  pre- 
serves, pickles  and,  maybe,  a  keg  of  molasses,  together 
with  a  barrel  of  flour  and  possibly  a  sack  of  sugar,  and 
other  et  cetera. 

With  the  coming  of  early  frost  one  neighbor  would 
kill  a  hog  and  divide  it  up  among  his  friends.  Perhaps 
a  little  later  another  would  butcher  a  small  beef  and 
divide  this  up  in  the  same  way,  all  "without  money  and 
without  price."  Thus  the  circle  had  a  taste  of  fresh 
meat  which  otherwise  would  have  spoiled,  as  no  one 
thought  of  putting  up  ice. 

Almost  no  one  had  a  cellar,  and  with  the  open  method 
in  vogue  for  building  houses,  in  cold  weather,  when  the 
fire  went  down,  things  would  freeze.  Of  cold  nights 
water  pitchers  and  other  fragile  articles  were  emptied 
of  their  liquid  contents,  otherwise  broken  vessels  were 
likely  to  be  found  next  morning. 

Apples  and  peaches  were  pared,  cut  into  slices  and 
spread  on  boards,  or  on  low  sheds,  where  they  would 


20  Some  Wild  Fruits 


dry  in  the  sun  after  several  days'  exposure.  Thus  placed 
they  attracted  and  were,  at  times,  covered  with  flies, 
wasps  and  other  insects.  Fortunately,  fruit  dried  in  this 
way,  through  stewing,  or  some  similar  method  of  cook- 
ing, was,  practically,  always  heated  to  a  high  tempera- 
ture before  going  on  the  table.  Pumpkins  were  not  in- 
frequently peeled,  sliced  and  dried  and  when  winter 
came,  eaten  with  relish. 

The  present  method  of  canning  fruit  and  vegetables 
did  not  come  in  vogue  till  about  the  middle  of  the  fifties ; 
and  when  first  introduced  was  a  much  more  complicated 
process  than  it  is  today.  Lack  of  knowledge  and  facili- 
ties for  preserving  fruit  made  the  use  of  preserves  much 
more  common  than  now,  and  in  quantities  that  would 
not  be  deemed  justifiable  today. 

Wild  blackberries  grew  in  abundance  and  were  of 
much  better  flavor  than  the  cultivated  varieties  we  have 
now.  Wild  raspberries  were  less  abundant  than  wild 
blackberries  and  the  same  was  true  of  wild  strawber- 
ries, but  both  had  an  especially  fine  taste  and  flavor. 

Wild  plums,  wild  crabapples  and  wild  grapes  were 
gathered  in  the  fall,  and  of  these  the  thrifty  housewife 
made  preserves,  jam  and  other  toothsome  preparations. 

Wild  grapes  grew  in  two  varieties,  summer  and  win- 
ter. Summer  grapes  ripened  in  late  summer,  were  larger 
and  much  sweeter  than  winter  grapes.  Indeed,  the  wild 
summer  grapes  are  said  to  be  the  stock  from  which  that 
staple,  the  Concord  grape,  was  derived.  Both  varieties 
flourished  in  the  timber  and  their  vines  sometimes  grew 
to  the  tops  of  tall  trees.  Winter  grapes  were  sour,  but 
after  frost  became  much  sweeter  and  more  tempting  to 
the  palate. 

Another  wild  fruit  that  came  in  after  frost  was  the 


Persimmons  and  the  Tenderfoot  21 

persimmon.  This  grew  on  a  tree  that  equaled  in  size 
a  medium  appletree.  In  late  summer  the  persimmon 
attained  the  dimensions  of  a  small  apple,  was  a  rich, 
beautiful  orange  in  color  and  presented  a  most  tempting 
appearance  to  the  uninitiated.  But  woe  to  the  tender- 
foot who  was  so  unwary  as  to  bite  into  its  supposedly 
luscious  meat;  for  instead  of  the  anticipated  sweet  and 
agreeable  taste,  the  tempted  one  would  experience  a 
"puckery"  sensation  that  seemed  about  to  draw  the  mu- 
cous membrane  of  his  mouth  and  parts  adjacent  into 
a  hard  knot !  After  frost  the  persimmon  took  on  a  pink 
hue  and  became  mellow  and  luscious  to  the  taste.  Freez- 
ing in  some  way  neutralized  the  tannin  with  which  be- 
fore frost  the  fruit  was  rilled  and  rendered  astringent 
and  puckery  to  the  mouth  and  palate. 

Pawpaws  were  another  wild  fruit  that  grew  in  the 
timber  and  ripened  in  the  fall,  but  unlike  some  referred 
to  above,  seemed  to  prefer  dense  woods.  This  fruit, 
however,  was  not  relished  by  all,  though  much  liked  by 
some. 

Going  to  mill  was  nearly  always  done  on  horseback. 
A  sack  of  wheat  or  shelled  corn  would  be  put  on  a 
horse  with  the  grain  divided  so  there  would  be  an  equal 
amount  in  each  end,  and  on  this  a  boy  would  be  mounted 
and  started  for  the  water-mill,  which  was  never  more 
than  four  or  five  miles  away.  Arrived  there  the  miller 
would  take  the  sack  in  the  mill  and  pour  its  contents 
into  the  hopper,  from  which  it  ran  in  between  the  two 
millstones,  one  of  which,  connected  with  a  water  wheel 
in  the  stream  beneath,  revolved  while  the  other  was  sta- 
tionary. Both  were  sharply  grooved  properly  to  crush 
and  grind  the  grain  that  passed  between  them.  For 
his  service  the  miller  took  toll,  that  is  a  certain  percent- 


22  A  Home  Product 


age  of  the  grain,  or  as  usually  said  in  this  sense,  the 
grist.  (See  pages  91-95.) 

People  made  their  own  soap  with  lye  and  fat.  The 
lye  was  made  by  leaching  wood  ashes  and  the  fat  came 
through  the  utilization  of  all  kinds  of  meat  scraps,  some 
of  which  were  sometimes  repulsive  in  both  appearance 
and  smell.  However,  the  strong  lye  with  which  the 
scraps  were  mixed  corrected  all  this. 

To  make  lye  from  wood  ashes  an  ash  hopper  was 
necessary.  This  the  pioneer  sometimes  made  from  a 
section  of  a  large  hollow  log  which,  with  its  two  ends 
sawed  off  square,  was  placed  on  inclined  boards  a  little 
above  the  ground.  In  the  lower  end  notches  would  be 
cut,  and  the  "ash-hopper"  thus  made  would  be  filled  with 
wood  ashes,  water  would  be  poured  upon  this  and  in 
percolating  through  would  be  converted  into  lye,  a  dark, 
coffee-colored  fluid  which  found  its  way  out  through 
the  notches  in  the  bottom  and  down  into  a  vessel  under- 
neath. This  was  the  pioneer's  ash-hopper.  Sometimes 
clapboards  would  be  used  and  at  others  a  common  bar- 
rel would  be  utilized  by  knocking  out  one  head,  boring 
some  holes  through  the  bottom,  placing  on  inclined 
boards,  and  filling  it  with  ashes. 

When  a  sufficient  amount  of  lye  was  obtained  it  was 
put  in  the  "big  kittle",  which  was  placed  out  of  doors 
and  a  fire  kindled  beneath  it.  When  the  lye  began  to 
boil  meat  scraps  were  put  in  and  all  well  stirred,  and  in 
due  time  the  contents  assumed  a  putty-like  consistency 
and  had  in  addition  all  the  other  qualities  of  soft  soap, 
a  most  useful  article  in  the  pioneer  household.  The 
iron  kettle  was  an  essential  in  every  family  in  early  days 
and  fulfilled  various  uses,  as  we  shall  see  later. 

Most  of  the  early  settlers  got  their  drinking  water 


The  "Waterwitch"  23 

from  springs.  Those  who  came  later  dug  wells,  some 
of  which  failed  to  afford  the  needed  supply  of  water 
for  drinking,  cooking  and  other  purposes.  After  one 
or  two  such  disappointments  the  property  owner  would 
sometimes  call  in  the  aid  of  the  "waterwitch."  The  water- 
witch  was  a  man  imbued  with  the  belief  that  a  forked 
stick,  called  a  divining  rod,  held  in  his  hands,  would  be 
drawn  down  by  some  mysterious  force  when  over  a  vein 
of  water.  For  this  purpose  a  forked  piece  of  witch- 
hazel  was  usually  selected.  With  a  prong  of  this  tightly 
grasped  in  each  hand,  his  arms  extended  at  full  length, 
the  point  of  the  fork  pointing  upwards,  the  waterwitch 
would  slowly  and  gravely  walk  over  a  spot  where  it 
was  desired  to  sink  a  well. 

In  the  event  water  was  found  where  the  waterwitch 
directed  a  well  to  be  dug  the  fact  was  seized  upon  and 
made  much  of  and  heralded  abroad  as  proof  of  his  pow- 
ers of  divination.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  sunken  well 
turned  out  to  be  a  dry  hole  in  the  ground,  this  fact  was 
passed  over  and  forgotten — so  charitable  is  ever  human 
nature,  when  the  mysterious  is  on  trial. 

However,  as  to  the  divining  rod,  there  were  people 
who  affirmed  that  when  this  was  properly  held  in  the 
hands  of  certain  persons  the  point  of  the  fork,  or  apex, 
was  forcibly  drawn  down  if  there  happened  to  be  a 
vein  of  water  in  the  ground  beneath. 

Very  few  of  the  early  settlers  had  cisterns  and  rain 
water  was  obtained  by  catching  it  in  a  barrel  into  which 
the  water  from  the  eaves  of  the  house  was  conveyed 
by  a  long,  slanting  board.  In  warm  weather,  if  this 
rain-water  was  not  used  soon,  it  would  come  to  be  filled 
with  "wiggle-tails". 

In  that  period  people  dressed  much  more  plainly  than 


24  Home-Spun  Clothes 

they  do  today  and  most  of  them  literally  wore  out  their 
clothing.  All  working  people  and  many  others  wore 
patched  garments.  For  every  day  many  men  wore  jeans 
and  the  women  linsey;  both  home-woven  and  home- 
spun from  wool  grown  on  the  backs  of  home-grown 
sheep.  Winter  and  summer  home-knit  woolen  socks 
were  worn.  For  coloring  these  home-made  articles,  cop- 
peras (sulphate  of  iron),  indigo,  madder  and  various 
barks,  especially  that  of  the  whiteoak,  were  used.  Un- 
derclothes were  not  generally  worn  and  many  a  boy  of 
two  generations  ago  reached  manhood  before  he  got  his 
first  overcoat. 

On  Sundays  and  special  occasions  most  men  dressed 
up  in  their  "store-clothes",  which  were  far  from  being 
as  well-fitting  and  well-made  as  today.  Furthermore 
they  were  much  more  liable  to  fade  after  being  worn 
for  a  time.  Few  men  wore  "store"  suspenders,  and 
working  people  all  wore  "galluses",  home-knit  from 
woolen  yarn,  or  made  of  strong  cotton  cloth. 

Working  men,  for  every-day  wear,  had  what  were 
known  as  "hunting-shirts",  made  of  jeans,  cut  loosely 
and  in  length  to  reach  to  about  the  bottom  of  the  pock- 
ets of  the  trousers.  In  that  day  trousers  were  usually 
called  "breeches"  and  vests,  "roundabouts". 

An  outer  garment  called  a  wammus  was  much  worn 
by  men.  It  was  made  of  wool,  was  ample  in  width  and 
had  no  skirt.  It  was  held  in  place  by  a  belt  and  had  a 
button  at  the  throat.  The  space  inside  of  it  around  the 
body  was  so  large  as  to  serve  its  owner  as  a  sack  for 
carrying  prairie  chickens  or  squirrels  when  he  went 
hunting.  In  fact  it  is  reported  to  have  done  service 
in  carrying  home  green  corn,  apples,  peaches  and  other 


Dearth  of  Time-Keepers  25 

pleasant  provender  in  the  night.     It  was  scarcely  large 
enough  to  carry  watermelons. 

As  the  fifties  advanced  professional  and  well-dressed 
men  wore  shawls  instead  of  overcoats.  These  were 
large,  made  of  thick,  heavy  woolen  and  were  nearly  al- 
ways gray  in  color.  Watches  were  very  much  less  com- 
mon than  now;  the  teacher,  the  preacher  and  the  doctor 
always  carried  a  watch,  but  scarcely  anyone  else.  These 
were  nearly  all  of  silver  and  a  gold  watch  was  seldom 
seen.  Likewise  clocks  were  not  nearly  so  common  as 
now,  and  working  people  were  in  the  habit  of  referring 
to  so-many  hours  "by-sun"  instead  of  saying  it  was  this 
or  that  hour  by  the  clock.  For  illustration,  in  the  event 
it  was  thought  it  would  be  two  hours  before  the  sun 
would  go  down,  this  was  referred  to  as  "two  hours  by- 
sun",  and  the  same  way  in  the  forenoon. 

Boots  came  in  fashion  in  the  early  fifties,  but  most 
working  men  wore  heavy  shoes,  called  "brogans".  Those 
who  made  more  pretensions  to  dress  would  go  to  the 
village  shoemaker  and  have  tight-fitting  boots  made;  so 
tight,  indeed,  that  they  had  to  go  through  a  process  of 
"breaking-in"  which  consisted  of  wearing  them  a  few 
hours  and  then  resting  the  feet  in  an  old  pair.  Every 
house  had  its  boot- jack  for  pulling  off  tight-fitting  boots, 
and  those  hard  to  get  off  from  being  water-soaked. 
Rubber  goods  did  not  come  into  general  use  till  the  fif- 
ties had  well  advanced,  hence  rubber  boots  and  rubber 
overshoes  were  seldom  seen.  When  it  was  very  muddy 
and  when  the  snow  was  melting,  men  and  boys  would 
go  all  day  with  wet  feet.  It  was  sought  to  make  leather 
foot-wear  water-proof  by  greasing  this  with  a  mixture 
of  beeswax  and  tallow,  but  while  this  helped  it  was  only 
partially  effective. 


26  What  a  Hat  Contained 

As  elsewhere  stated,  buggies  were  very  few,  and  a 
great  deal  of  the  travel  was  on  horseback.  In  stormy 
weather  men  wore  heavy  overcoats  and  "leggins"  made 
•of  strong,  thick  cloth,  long  enough  to  reach  from  the 
knees  to  the  heels,  and  wide  enough  to  go  once  and  a 
half  round  the  leg,  to  which  they  were  attached  by  strong 
cords.  When  the  roads  were  muddy  the  leggings  would 
often  become  covered  with  mud  and  water,  but  when 
removed  the  trousers  beneath  would  be  found  dry  and 
clean. 

It  was  the  custom  for  men  to  carry  papers  in  their 
hats,  so  that  a  constable  or  other  official  when  about  to 
serve  a  writ  or  summons  would  turn  his  head  to  one 
side  and  carefully  take  off  his  hat,  and  search  through 
its  contents  for  the  desired  instrument.  In  this  connec- , 
tion  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  Lincoln  in  preparing 
one  of  his  great  speeches  made  notes  on  scraps  of  paper 
which  he  kept  in  his  hat. 


Type  of  Log  House  common  in  Illinois   in  the   Early   50's. 
(A.  C.  McClurg  and  Co.,  by  permission) 


Pioneer   Fireplace,   Cooking  Utensils,   Etc. 
(Loaned  by  O.  W.  Converse,  Springfield,  111.) 


CHAPTER   II. 

A  PROGRESSIVE  PIONEER  AND  THE  EVOLUTION  OF  A 
HOME. 

Every  beginning  is  hard ;  but  most  the  beginning  of  a 
household.  Many  are  human  wants  and  everything  daily  grows 
dearer. — Goethe. 

This  was  the  way  to  thrive  and  he  was  blest. 

— Shakespeare. 

While  in  very  young  manhood  Benjamin  Jones,  in 
1816,  came  to  the  Territory  of  Illinois,  where  in  due 
time  he  built  a  cabin,  married  a  young  wife  and  began 
life  in  earnest  in  the  virgin  Land  of  Promise. 

With  the  lapse  of  time  little  Joneses  had  arrived,  and 
their  presence  made  more  room  desirable,  and  the  father, 
ever  ready  to  reach  out  and  improve  his  surroundings, 
built  another  cabin  the  size  of  the  first  and  ten  feet  dis- 
tant from  it.  The  space  between  the  cabins  was  floored, 
and  in  warm  weather  served  as  a  sort  of  porch  and  a 
place  for  the  dining  table.  Time  went  steadily  on,  and 
other  little  Joneses  came  on  the  scene  and  created  the  need 
for  yet  more  room.  This  crying  need  caused  Benjamin 
Jones  literally  to  "raise  the  roof"  of  both  cabins,  extend 
this  over  the  space  between,  and  enclose  it  besides,  thus 
making,  for  that  period,  a  commodious  house  of  six 
rooms. 

In  that  era  it  was  the  custom  of  the  pioneers  to  ac- 
commodate the  traveling  public  by  giving  them  shelter 
and  food.  Benjamin  Jones  fell  into  this  way  and  kept 

(27) 


28  Keeping  Up  With  the  Demand 

it  up  till  his  patrons  became  too  numerous  for  the  ac- 
commodations he  had  at  their  disposal.  In  this  emer- 
gency he  added  a  dining-room  and  kitchen,  with  up- 
stairs, to  the  rear  of  his  house,  and  at  the  same  time 
remodeled  the  older  part,  by  weatherboarding  it,  and 
putting  in  modern  doors,  windows  and  brick  chimneys. 
Thus  enlarged,  the  structure  served  its  purpose  for 
many  years.  However,  with  the  advent  of  the  early 
fifties  the  house  was  again  remodeled  and  added  to  by 
building,  at  its  front,  a  large  room  on  the  main  floor 
and  one  above  it  on  the  second  floor,  with  a  porch  on 
either  side.  Blinds,  which  were  just  coming  in  use, 
were  put  on  all  the  windows  and  the  house  was  given 
a  coat  of  paint,  something  of  an  innovation  in  that  local- 
ity. When  completed  the  structure  became  one  of  the 
itnost  attractive  dwellings  in  all  the  country  around.  This 
house,  whose  first  rooftree  was  reared  nearly  a  hundred 
years  ago,  is  yet  standing — that  is,  the  main  part  of  it. 
The  last  portion  added — the  two  rooms  of  frame  in 
front — at  the  end  of  a  half-century  became  dilapidated 
and  was  removed,  leaving  the  part  first  built  of  logs,  in 
seeming  condition  to  weather  the  storms  and  winds  of  a 
second  century. 

Benjamin  Jones  was  as  progressive  and  enterprising 
in  other  matters  as  in  improving  and  keeping  his  house 
up  to  date.  No  sooner  had  the  rank  prairie  grass  been 
turned  under  by  the  plow  than  he  planted  out  apple, 
peach,  pear,  and  cherry  trees.  Meantime,  sad  to  tell,  he 
chopped  down  some  noble  forest  trees,  that  had  the 
hardihood  and  vitality  to  encroach  on  the  ever-hardy 
prairie  grass,  and  planted  in  their  places  relatively  insig- 
nificant evergreens.  Fortunately  a  few  oaks  and  hicko- 
ries were  spared  and  today  tower  above  and  in  every 


Always  the  Best  29 


way  overshadow  the  sickly  pines  and  cedars  planted 
sixty  years  ago  or  more. 

As  already  said,  Benjamin  Jones  was  progressive,  and 
consequently  his  fields  were  planted  with  the  best  corn, 
the  best  wheat  and  the  best  oats  that  could  be  obtained. 
On  his  pastures  were  seen  the  very  best  strains  of  cat- 
tle and  horses,  and  in  winter  these  were  well  housed  in 
stables,  while  near-by  barns  were  filled  with  well-cured 
hay  and  plenty  of  corn  and  oats. 

In  a  garden  of  ample  size  grew  all  kinds,  and  the  latest 
varieties,  of  vegetables.  Asparagus  and  rhubarb,  or  pie- 
plant, were  then  novelties;  nevertheless,  he  cultivated 
them  in  his  always  up-to-date  garden. 

But  perhaps  the  pride  of  his  heart  was  his  orchard, 
where  always  could  be  found  the  very  latest  varieties 
of  apples,  pears,  peaches,  quinces,  cherries  and  other 
fruit.  Insect  pests  were  far  less  numerous  in  that  day 
than  now  and  consequently  fruit  .matured  without  inter- 
ruption or  blemish. 

In  the  orchard  devoted  to  peaches  were  fine,  large 
Yellow  Crawfords,  and  luscious  White  Crawfords. 
There  was  also  a  variety  known  as  the  Indian  Blood 
peach,  large  as  a  teacup,  blood  red  within  and  meat  that 
would  "tempt  the  gods". 

In  the  apple  orchard  the  first  fruit  to  ripen  were  the 
"Junes",  with  coats  smooth  as  though  varnished,  almost 
black  in  color,  meat  as  white  as  cotton,  and  that  ripened 
late  in  the  month  of  June,  as  the  name  would  imply. 

Early  in  July  came  the  Harvest  Apple,  yellow  in  color, 
mellow  when  fully  ripe,  and  sweet  and  attractive  in 
taste.  In  early  fall  the  best  eating  apple  of  all  was  ready 
for  use.  This  was  the  Rambo,  which  had  a  rich  taste 
•  and  rare  flavor  all  its  own — an  apple  that  had  over  its 


30  The  Apple-Orchard 

surface  fine  streaks,  between  which  were  small  speckles. 
A  little  later  the  Redstreak  ripened — a  large,  fine  apple, 
its  whole  surface  covered  with  distinct  red  stripes  from 
which  it  derived  its  name.  Brown  Russets  also  ripened 
early.  As  the  name  would  imply,  the  coats  of  these  were 
brown.  They  were  also  rough  and  often  had  on  them 
warty-like  outgrowths;  but  strange  to  say,  these  in  no 
way  detracted  from  appearance  and  character  of  that 
old-time  favorite  among  apples,  the  Brown  Russet.  The 
housewife  always  prized  them  for  baking  and  when  in 
the  oven  they  exuded  a  caramel-like  substance  that  was 
the  delight  of  the  children.  Later  came  the  Winesap,  a 
firm,  red,  smooth  apple ;  and  later  still  Jennetings,  Rhode 
Island  Greenings,  especially  fine  apples,  and  Romanites, 
Big  and  Little,  but  as  unlike  as  two  apples  well  could 
be.  The  Big  Romanite  was  a  winter  apple  with  a  yel- 
lowish-green coat  on  which  were  small  scattered  streaks 
and  specks.  The  Little  Romanite  was  deep  red,  its  coat 
seemingly  polished,  it  was  so  smooth.  It  had  a  sweet 
taste,  was  a  great  "keeper"  and  was  in  fine  condition 
the  spring  subsequent  to  its  gathering. 

October  was  apple-picking  month,  and  it  was  then 
that  everyone  got  busy  at  Benjamin  Jones'  place.  Lad- 
ders of  various  lengths,,  baskets  and  buckets  provided 
with  wooden  hooks  for  attaching  to  limbs  or  ladder- 
rounds,  and  long  wooden  hooks  for  pulling  in  limbs, 
were  the  appliances  the  apple-pickers  needed.  With 
bucket  in  hand  the  picker,  after  placing  his  ladder  against 
an  apple  branch  heavily  loaded  with  fruit,  would  go  up, 
attach  his  vessel  to  a  branch  or  round  and  then  carefully 
gather  the  apples  and  place  them  in  the  bucket.  Having 
picked,  all  those  within  reach,  he  would  use  his  long  hook 
to  pull  in  other  loaded  limbs.  His  vessel  filled,  he  would:. 


The  Cider  Mill  31 


go  down  to  the  ground  and  carefully  empty  the  apples 
in  a  wagon,  or  maybe  put  them  in  a  pile  on  the  ground, 
and  so  on  till  the  last  apple  on  the  tree  was  gathered  and 
handled  so  carefully  that  no  bruises  were  inflicted. 

The  apples  that  had  been  bruised  and  those  that  fell 
of  their  own  accord,  the  wind-falls,  were  put  to  various 
uses ;  some  were  cut  and  dried,  some  made  into  apple 
butter  and  some  into  cider  at  the  cidermill.  This  was, 
so  to  speak,  homemade,  and  consisted  of  a  round,  barrel- 
like  structure  of  strong  boards  held  together  by  strong 
iron  hoops,  in  which  was  fitted  a  circular  head,  made 
of  thick  boards  and  which  worked  up  and  down  -  and 
was  attached  to  the  center  of  a  long,  strong  lever,  one 
end  of  which  was  securely  attached  to  a  firm  post,  while 
at  the  other  a  heavy  weight  exerted  great  pressure  on 
the  head  and  thus  squeezed  the  cider  out  of  the  pomace — 
that  is,  the  apples  that  had  been  ground  to  pulp  in  the 
crusher.  Two  upright  wooden  wheels,  two  feet  long, 
with  cogs  their  whole  length  and  four  inches  deep,,  com- 
prised the  essential  part  of  the  crusher,  which  was  en- 
circled with  a  strong  casing  and  through  the  top  of  this 
the  axle  of  one  of  the  wooden  wheels  connected  with  a 
long,  horizontal  sweep  or  lever,  at  one  end  of  which  a 
horse  was  hitched  and  furnished  the  rotary  motion  by 
going  round  and  round.  Just  over  the  cogged  wheels 
was  a  hopper  containing  the  apples  to  be  ground.  The 
pomace  found  its  way  into  a  vat  and  from  the  vat  was 
scooped  into  the  press,  from  the  bottom  of  which  the 
rich-colored  cider  streamed  out  and  ran  into  a  large  tub. 
From  the  tub  the  cider  was  dipped,  and  through  a  fun- 
nel conveyed  into  barrels.  When  filled  the  barrels  were 
left  for  a  time  with  their  bungs  open,  and  meantime,  the 


32  Threshing  Grain 


small  boy  with  a  convenient  rye-straw  sucked  "nectar" 
to  his  heart's  content. 

In  the  early  fifties  the  interior  of  one  of  Benjamin 
Jones's  large  barns  was  used  as  a  threshing  floor.  From 
the  fields  the  wheat  was  hauled  in  and  scattered  over  this 
floor  where  horses,  with  boys  on  their  backs,  were  made 
to  go  round  and  round  in  the  straw,  causing  each  grain 
to  fall  from  its  delicate,  film-like  cover.  After  tramping 
the  grain  for  a  few  minutes  the  horses  were  taken  away, 
when  men  with  forks  removed  the  straw  and  then  with 
scoops  took  up  the  grain  and  chaff  and  put  it  in  a  large 
pile.  Then  the  barn  floor  was  again  covered  with  wheat, 
horses  were  ridden  over  it,  the  straw  was  removed,  the 
wheat  and  chaff  added  to  what  had  gone  before,  and  so 
on  till  the  whole  product  from  the  fields  had  been 
"tramped"  over.  Then  the  fan-mill  was  placed  in  proper 
position  and  one  man  turned  it  by  a  crank,  while  another 
shoveled  in  the  wheat  and  chaff.  The  wind,  generated 
by  the  fan-mill,  blew  away  the  chaff,  and  gravity  caused 
the  wheat  to  fall  to  the  bottom  and  run  out  of  a  spout, 
free  from  impurities  and  ready  for  the  miller. 

Later  came  the  threshing-machine  which,  in  its  first 
form,  was  called  a  "ground-hog"  from  the  fact  that  it 
only  threshed  the  grain,  and  did  not  separate  it  from  the 
straw1  and  chaff — indeed,  left  it  precisely  in  the  same 
condition  it  was  on  the  barn  floor  when  the  horses  had 
done  their  "tramping."  Consequently  men  had  to  fork 
away  the  straw  and  run  the  wheat  and  chaff  through  a 
fan-mill,  before  this  ground-hog  threshed  wheat  was 
ready  to  be  made  into  flour.  However,,  it  was  not  long 
till  fan  and  separator  became  part  of  the  threshing  ma- 
chine, and  the  golden  grain,  clean  and  ready  for  market, 
ran  from  one  of  the  sides  of  the  improved  thresher.  In 


A  Place  of  Utility  33 

the  old  days  threshing  was  always  done  by  horse-power 
and  never  with  steam  and  an  engine,  as  is  uniformly 
the  custom  today. 

A  good  many  people  piled  their  wood  in  the  front  yard, 
and  chopped  it  there  with  the  result  that  the  chips  flew 
all  about  and  created  an  unsightly  litter.  Not  so  with 
Benjamin  Jones,  the  Progressive  Pioneer!  About  his 
house  was  a  lawn  interspersed  with  shrubbery  and  shade 
trees,  but  separated  from  it  by  a  fence,  and  yet  convenient 
to  the  house,  was  a  woodyard  of  ample  dimensions,  where 
wood  hauled  from  the  timber  was  placed  and  chopped  in 
fire-lengths. 

At  the  rear  of  this  woodyard  and  convenient  to  the 
kitchen  was  an  outhouse  with  several  apartments ;  one  of 
these,  attached  to  the  main  structure  by  a  shed-roof,  was 
the  smokehouse  where  the  meat  was  salted,  smoked  and 
kept ;  another,  the  principal  room,  was  a  sort  of  place  for 
doing  things  which  the  women  did  not  care  to  have  done 
in  the  house,  such  as  rendering  lard,  making  soap,  boiling 
down  cider,  making  apple  butter,  and  washing  the  family 
linen.  In  this  room  was  a  large  fireplace,  in  that  day, 
needed  for  doing  the  above-named  things.  Another  thing 
done  at  this  fireplace  was  molding  candles.  Benjamin 
Jones  provided  his  household  with  several  sets  of  candle- 
molds,  each  of  which  would  mold  a  dozen  candles.  These 
were  made  of  heavy  tin,  their  tops,  for  shaping  the  big- 
end  of  the  candle,  connected  by  a  common  receiver,  and 
their  several  tips  just  large  enough  to  admit  the  small 
end  of  a  candle-stick.  When  the  housewife  was  about 
to  make  candles  she  first  of  all  put  a  wick  in  each  single 
mold.  This  she  did  by  taking  a  piece  twice  the  length 
of  the  candle,  folding  it  upon  itself,  twisting  its  smaller 
end  and  passing  it  down  and  out  at  the  bottom  of  the 


34  For  the  Outer  and  Inner  Man 

mold,  leaving  the  double  end  at  the  top  through  which  a 
short  stick  passed  to  hold  it  in  place.  When  each  sepa- 
rate mold  was  thus  threaded,  so  to  speak,  melted  tallow 
was  poured  in  till  all  were  filled.  After  filling,  the  molds 
were  set  aside,  till  the  melted  tallow  could  have  time  to 
"set,"  a  matter  of  a  few  hours,  when  each  candle  was 
pulled  out  by  the  stick  that  had  been  passed  through  the 
base  of  the  wick.  In  the  end  the  housewife  found  her- 
self in  possession  of  one,  two,  three,  four  or  more,  dozen 
candles,  all  depending  on  how  many  .molds  she  had  filled. 

Another  thing  done  beside  the  fireplace  in  this  out- 
house was  making  apple-butter.  In  the  beautiful  month 
of  October  after  apples  were  ripe  and  cider-making  had 
gotten  under  way  the  thrifty  housewife  began  to  make 
apple-butter,  peach-butter  and  preserves.  For  this  pur- 
pose Benjamin  Jones  had  a  brass  kettle  that  held  perhaps 
ten  gallons.  Filled  about  two-thirds  full  of  cider,  this 
kettle  was  placed  over  a  fire  and  heated  while  apples, 
peeled  and  quartered,  were  stirred  in  till  all  was  cooked 
into  a  soft  pulp,  or  in  other  words,  acceptable  apple- 
butter. 

Peach-butter  was  made  in  much  the  same  way,  and 
likewise  plum-butter  and  other  butter  varieties  that  a 
thrifty  housekeeper  well  knew  how  to  make. 

In  one  corner  of  the  large  room  was  a  loom  for  weav- 
ing coarse  cloth  and  carpets.  In  the  forties,  as  elsewhere 
noted,  most  of  the  men  wore  jeans  and  the  women  linsey, 
both  woolen  in  texture.  Till  near  the  end  of  the  forties 
most  of  the  floors  were  bare,  but  with  the  coming  of  the 
fifties,  women  began  to  weave  rag  carpets.  These  car- 
pets, as  their  name  signifies,  were  made  of  rags,  rags  of 
various  hues  and  texture.  All  of  the  carpets  then  were 


A  Pair  of  Buttet  Molds  35 

home-made  and  home-woven  on  the  rude,  awkwardly- 
constructed  looms  of  that  time. 

In  his  younger  days  Benjamin  Jones  had  been  some- 
thing of  a  hunter  and  was  a  good  shot.  He  still  kept  his 
old  Kentucky  rifle,  but  rarely  used  it  for  any  purpose 
other  than  for  shooting  beeves  and  hogs  at  butchering 
time.  At  the  fireplace  in  the  outhouse  he  sometimes 
molded  bullets  for  his  rifle.  For  this  purpose  he  had  a 
pair  of  bullet-molds  which,  when  closed,  looked  much 
like  a  pair  of  pliers.  However,  between  their  closed  jaws 
was  a  round  opening  into  which  melted  lead  was  poured 
and  allowed  to  cool,  when,  by  opening  the  handle-blades, 
a  leaden  bullet  would  drop  out,  due  to  the  fact  that  half 
of  the  mold  was  in  either  jaw  of  the  appliance.  As  the 
lead  cooled  quickly,  bullets  could  be  molded  rapidly,  but 
always  at  the  expense  of  some  dross.  Lead  for  bullets 
was  always  purchased  in  bars  at  the  community  store. 

As  before  noted,  Benjamin  Jones  was  ever  progres- 
sive, and  was  in  the  forefront  of  that  progressive  era  in 
Illinois  that  had  its  inception  near  the  beginning  of  the 
second  half  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  and  that  depended 
not  a  little  upon  the  free  influx  into  the  State  of  Cali- 
fornia gold.  For  this  reason  the  next  chapter  will  be 
devoted  to  the  discovery  of  gold  in  California,  notwith- 
standing the  fact  that  this  event  occurred  in  the  late 
forties,  instead  of  the  fifties  to  which  this  work  is  more 
especially  devoted. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  GOLD-SEEKERS  OF  THE  LATE  FORTIES. 

What  scenes  they  pass'd,  what  camps  at  morn, 

What  weary  columns  kept  the  road; 

What  lines  of  yoked  and  patient  steers! 
What  weary  thousands  pushing  west! 

— Joaquin  Miller. 
i 

The  great  energy  and  all  but  irrepressible  enterprise 
of  Captain  Sutter  were  most  important  factors  in  bring- 
ing about  the  epoch-making  discovery  of  gold  in  Cali- 
fornia near  the  middle  of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

Captain  John  A.  Sutter  a  native  of  Switzerland,  came 
to  California  in  1839,  and  calling  to  his  aid  a  number  of 
Mexicans  and  friendly  Indians,  built  a  Fort,  where  now 
is  located  the  City  of  Sacramento,  at  the  junction  of  the 
American  and  Sacramento  rivers.  This  Fort  occupied 
an  acre  or  more  of  ground,  was  surrounded  by  an  adobe 
wall  twenty  feet  high,  and  at  two  of  its  diagonally  oppo- 
site corners,  had  two,  two-story  block-houses.  Within 
the  enclosure  was  a  general  store,  a  blacksmith  shop,  a 
carpenter  shop,  and  a  room  where  Indian  women  made 
blankets  and  other  articles  of  common  use,  indispen- 
sable to  pioneers.  Within  the  Fort  there  were  also 
apartments  for  residence  purposes. 

Here  Captain  Sutter  lived,  managed,  his  affairs  and 

governed  his  employees  and  followers  not  unlike  a  Baron 

of  the  middle  ages.     Indeed,  under  Mexican  law,  he 

could  inflict  punishment  up  to  the  death  penalty,  if  needs 

(36) 


Captain  Suiter  37 


be.  But  in  justice  to  Captain  Sutter  it  should  be  said 
that,  if  ever  he  was  unjust  or  cruel  in  the  exercise  of 
authority,  such  fact  is  unknown. 

But  whatever  Captain  Sutter  was  or  was  not,  he  was 
most  of  all  a  man  of  affairs  and  at  all  times  had  an  eye 
out  for  business.  He  supplied  the  pioneers,  immigrants 
and  travelers  with  staple  articles  of  food  for  the  inner 
man,  and  coarse,  strong  garments  for  the  outer.  He 
also  kept  a  stock  of  things  required  by  wagonmen  and 
horsemen,  such  as  harness,  saddles,  bridles  and  the 
thousand  and  one  things  needed  in  the  wear  and  tear  of 
frontier  life.  Further  than  this,  he  constructed  a  Tan- 
nery, where  the  hides  bought  from  cattlemen  were 
dressed. 

When  at  the  close  of  the  Mexican  war,  California  was 
ceded  to  the  United  States,  Captain  Sutter  saw  that  there 
would  be  a  heavy  emigration  from  the  States  and  con- 
sequently a  greatly  increased  demand  for  lumber  with 
which  to  construct  houses  for  the  incomers.  Impressed 
with  this  idea  he  realized  that  a  properly  located  sawmill 
would  be  a  profitable  investment.  But  where  could  a 
good  site  for  a  sawmill  be  found  ?  Who  could  build  and 
equip  one?  And  who  could  run  it  as  it  should  be  run, 
after  it  was  built?  These  were  questions  that  came  up- 
permost in  Captain  Sutter's  mind  after  he  had  decided, 
if  possible,  to  add  a  sawmill  to  his  many  other  enter- 
prises. In  this  frame  of  mind  he  had  the  good  fortune 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  one  James  W.  Marshall,  a 
native  of  New  Jersey,  a  mill-wright,  a  carpenter,  an  all- 
around  handy  man  with  a  roving  disposition,  a  rolling- 
stone,  in  fact,  who  doubtless  had  helped  others  to  make 
money,  but  who,  as  yet,  had  made  none  for  himself. 

After  talking  the  matter  over  it  was  agreed  that  Mar- 


Seeking  a  MiU-Site 


shall  should  find  a  suitable  site  and  erect  the  mill,  that 
Captain  Sutler  should  furnish  the  money  to  purchase 
all  needed  appliances  and  material,  that  after  it  was  fin- 
ished Marshall  should  superintend  the  running  of  the 
mill,  and  that  the  profits  should  be  equally  divided  be- 
tween them. 

As.  soon  as  the  agreement  was  consummated  Marshall 
disappeared  f rQtn  view  and  did  not  show  himself  again 
till  the.  end  of  a  month's  time,  when  he  reported  to  Cap- 
tain Sutter  that  he  had  found  an  eligible  site  for  a  saw- 
mill at  Coloma,  on  the  north  fork  of  the  American  River, 
sixty-five  miles  distant  by  trail,  forty-five  as  the  crow 
flies.  It  was  now  late  in  the  fall  and  no  time  was  to  be 
lost,  so  ox-carts  and  pack-mules  were  secured,  loaded 
with  such  appliances  and  material  as  would  be  needed  in 
the  construction  of  the  sawmill,  and  all,  under  the  lead  of 
Marshall,  were  promptly  started  on  the  trail  to  the  far- 
away Coloma. 

Having,  done  what  he  could  to  get  the  sawmill  under 
•way,  Captain  Sutter  dismissed  it  from  his  mind  for  the 
time,  and  busied  himself  with  his  numerous  other  affairs. 
Among  the  latter  was  a  flou  ring-mill  which  he  was  build- 
ing at  Brighton  not  far  distant  from  his  fort. 

Meanwhile,  Marshall  in  the  face  of  many  obstacles 
reached  his  destination  and  there  pushed  the  work  on 
^the  sawmill  with  due  energy  and  enterprise  and  by  the 
-middle  of,  January  the  structure  was  almost  ready  to 
operate.  However,  at  the  last  moment  it  was  found 
that  the  race  which  carried  off  the  water  after  it  had 
done  its  work,  was  too  shallow.  To  remedy  this  Marshall 
decided  to  try  the  experiment  of  opening  wide  the  flood- 
gates and  permitting  the  water  to  sweep  through,  out 
and  over  all.  Accordingly  one  evening  the  gates  were 


"Gold!   Gold!— I  Have  Found  It!"  39 

opened  and  permitted  to  run  all  night.  Next  morning 
early  Marshall  went  to  the  mill  alone,  closed  the  flood- 
gates and  proceeded  to  examine  the  result  of  his  experi- 
ment. Much  to  his  satisfaction  he  found  the  channel 
had  been  washed  out  till  it  was  much  wider  and  deeper. 
The  loose  earth  had  been  washed  down  stream,  but  the 
heavier  sand  and  gravel  were  yet  in  the  channel.  While 
examining  the  latter  Marshall's  attention  was  attracted 
by  some  shining  lumps  of  mineral.  Picking  up  one  of 
these;  it  was  found  to  be  heavy  and  bright  yellow  in 
color.  Marshall  could  think  of  nothing  having  these 
characteristics  except  sulphuret  of  iron,  but  that  he  re- 
membered is  brittle.  How  was  this?  He  hammered  it 
between  two  pieces  of  rock  and  was  delighted  to  find 
that  it  hammered  out — that  is,  it  was  malleable! 

By  this  time  the  other  men  had  come  to  their  work, 
and  seeing  them  Marshall  cried  out,  "Gold !  Gold !  I  have 
found  it!"  But  none  of  them  was  disposed  to  believe 
his  words ;  indeed,  they  thought  he  was  half  crazy.  Re- 
alizing that  what  he  regarded  as  a  valuable  discovery 
was  not  to  meet  with  appreciation  at  Coloma,  he  saddled 
a  horse  and  with  some  specimens  in  his  pocket  started 
for  Sutter's  Fort,  fast  as  the  animal  could  carry  him. 

Captain  Sutter  we  left  so  occupied  with  his  many  en- 
terprises nearer  home,  that  he  gave  little  heed  to  the 
sawmill  building  at  Coloma.  But  to  the  latter  place  the 
fates  had  decreed  that  his  attention  was  soon  to  be  drawn, 
and  drawn  irresistibly. 

One  day  not  far  from  January  20,  1848,  Marshall  rode 
up  to  the  Fort,  his  horse  in  a  lather  of  sweat  and  he  him- 
self, in  a  state  of  excitement.  He  immediately  asked  for 
a  private  interview  with  Captain  Sutter  and  when  this 
was  granted  he  produced  the  specimens  and  told  where 


40  Colonia — Where  Gold  Was  Discovered 

and  how  they  were  found.  Captain  Sutter  was  a  well- 
informed  man  and  went  about  the  examination  of  the 
mineral  in  an  intelligent  and  thorough  manner.  It  so 
happened  that  he  had  in  his  library  a  copy  of  the  British 
Enclycopedia  and  in  his  stores  some  nitro-muriatic  acid. 
He  consulted  the  cyclopedia,  under  the  title  of  the  article 
on  gold,  and  was  gratified  to  find  the  speciments  pos- 
sessed all  the  features  and  characteristics  of  that  precious 
metal,  and  furthermore,  reacted  to  all  the  tests  at  his 
command. 

When  at  the  conclusion  of  his  investigations,  Captain 
Sutter  said  that  the  mineral  was  undoubtedly  gold,  Mar- 
shall became  excited  and  suggested  that  they  at  once  go 
back  to  Coloma.  This  Captain  Sutter  was  opposed  to, 
but  finally  gave  his  word  that  he  would  go  next  day. 
Having  exacted  this  promise  from  Captain  Sutter,  Mar- 
shall immediately  mounted  a  fresh  horse  and  started  on 
his  return  trip.  A  cold  winter  rain  was  falling  steadily 
and  Marshall  had  not  tasted  a  bite  of  food  since  meeting 
Captain  Sutter,  but  these  things  did  not  deter  him  from 
riding  fast  as  his  horse  would  carry  him. 

Next  morning  it  was  still  raining,  but  Captain  Sutter, 
true  to  his  promise,  started  on  horseback  for  Coloma, 
having  for  company  an  Indian  soldier  and  a  vaquero. 
When  they  were  well  on  their  way  they  saw  a  man 
crawl  out  of  the  brush  into  the  trail,  a  little  distance  in 
front  of  them,  and  upon  approaching  closer,  found  that 
it  was  Marshall,  still  under  great  excitement,  who,  it 
seemed,  after  reaching  Coloma  and  looking  about  for  a 
little  time,  mounted  a  fresh  horse  and  started  back  on 
the  trail  hoping  to  meet  Captaain  Sutter,  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  he  fortunately  did.  The  party  rode  forward 
rapidly  and  reached  the  millrace  before  nightfall.  Here 


Trying  to  Keep  a  Secret  41 

the  gates  were  opened  wide  and  the  water  permitted  to 
flow  all  night.  Next  morning  a  number  of  additional 
specimens  were  found  in  the  bottom  of  the  race  and 
later  Captain  Sutter  took  these  to  a  goldsmith,  had  them 
fashioned  into  a  large  ring,  within  which,  was  engraved 
the  following:  "The  first  gold  discovered  in  January, 
1848." 

After  looking  around  for  a  day  or  two,  Captain  Sutter 
returned  to  his  fort.  Before  starting,  however,  he  ex- 
acted a,  solemn  promise  from  each  of  Marshall's  em- 
ployees that  they  would  under  no  circumstances  divulge 
the  secret  of  the  discovery.  He  realized  that  some  of  his 
irons,  of  which  he  had  many,  would  burn  if  the  discovery 
became  generally  known.  But  a  secret,  such  as  the  one 
Captain  Sutter  was  trying  to  keep  under  cover,  was  hard 
to  hide.  One  W.  P.  Wimjner,  with  his  wife  and  family, 
had  a  temporary  abode  near  Marshall's  mill.  Mrs.  Wim- 
mer  did  the  cooking  for  all  the  employees,  among  whom 
was  a  teamster  who,  upon  arriving  from  the  fort  with  a 
load  of  provisions,  was  told  of  what  had  happened  in 
his  absence,  by  his  landlady,  at  whose  table  he  was  striv- 
ing to  satisfy  a  hungry  man's  appetite. 

This  teamster  very  naturally  became  interested,  col- 
lected a  few  specimens  and  carried  them  with  him  when 
he  returned  to  the  fort.  A  little  later  he  felt  the  need 
of  some  brandy  and,  recollecting  his  specimens,  took 
these  to  the  store  of  Brannan  &  Smith  and  sought  to 
trade  them  for  a  bottle  of  the  desired  stimulant.  Smith, 
one  of  the  partners  to  whom  the  proposition  was  made, 
at  once  became  indignant  that  some  worthless  mineral 
was  thought  good  enough  to  exchange  for  his  fine,  choice 
brandy.  In  reply  the  teamster  said  the  specimens  were 
gold  and  he  would  be  glad  to  leave  the  matter  to  the 


42  "The  Cat  Out  of  the  Bag" 

judgment  of  Captain  Sutter.  As  Brannan  &  Smith  had 
their  goods  in  a  building  that  adjoined  Sutter's  fort,  it 
was  little  trouble  to  follow  the  teamster's  suggestion.  Of 
course  when  squarely  approached  in  the  matter,  Captain 
Sutter  had  to  tell  the  whole  story. 

Smith  told  his  partner,  Brannan,  all  about  the  discov- 
ery. Brannan  became  so  interested  that  he  at  once  went 
to  Coloma,  looked  around  for  a  few  days  and  became  so 
impressed  with  the  magnitude  of  the  "find"  that  he  re- 
turned to  the  fort,  rented  a  larger  room,  bought  a  larger 
stock  of  goods  and  in  various  ways  got  ready  for  an  in- 
rush of  people  which  he  felt  sure  knowledge  of  the  dis- 
covery would  bring.  Thus  the  secret  was  no  longer  a 
secret.  "The  cat  was  out  of  the  bag." 

As  Captain  Sutton  feared,  several  of  his  irons  were 
burned.  At  the  tannery  hides  rotted  in  the  vats;  at  the 
mill  building  at  Brighton,  all  work  ceased,  for  the  reason 
that  men  could  not  be  induced  to  do  trifling,  every-day 
work,  when  under  their  very  feet  rich  mines  of  gold 
were,  in  a  sense,  beckoning  them  to  come  and  unearth 
their  hidden  wealth. 

After  vainly  endeavoring  to  stem  the  tide,  Captain 
Sutter  recalling  the  adage,  "While  in  Rome  do  as  the 
Romans  do,"  called  to  his  aid  one  hundred  and  fifty 
Indians  and  Sandwich  Islanders,  loaded  a  number  of 
wagons  with  provisions,  and  started  all  on  the  trail  that 
led  to  the  mines  at  Coloma. 

About  a  month  after  Marshall's  discovery,  one  of  his 
carpenters,  whose  name  was  Bennett,  carried  some  of 
the  specimens  to  San  Francisco  where  they  fell  under 
the  eyes  of  Isaac  Humphrey,  who  had  had  experience  in 
the  gold  mines  of  Georgia.  From  the  size  of  the  speci- 
mens and  their  general  appearance  Humphrey  did  not 


The  " Forty -Niwrs"  43 

hesitate  to  predict  that  the  California  mines  would  prove 
to  be  much  richer  than  those  of  Georgia.  Indeed,  Hum- 
phrey was  so  impressed  that  he  returned  with  Bennett 
to  Coloma  and  after  prospecting  for  a  little  time,  built 
a  rocker  and  went  into  the  business  of  gold-washing  and 
was  richly  rewarded.  Very  soon  Humphrey  had  imita- 
tors who  also  built  rockers  and  went  to  washing  gold. 
More  prospecting  was  done  and  this  revealed  the  fact 
that  the  whole  region  around  Coloma  was  richly  gold- 
bearing.  The  news  spread,  but  in  that  day  of  slow  and 
uncertain  communication  it  was  received  with  incredulity 
in  many  quarters.  However,  immigrants  began  to  come 
in  freely,  and  finally  in  December,  1848,  President  Polk 
in  his  annual  message,  officially  announced  to  the  world 
that  gold,  in  hitherto  unheard  of  quantities,  existed  in 
the  mines  of  California.  In  less  than  a  month  after 
President  Folk's  message  the  new  year,  1849,  was  usn~ 
ered  in,  and  in  a  little  time  people  began  to  pour  into 
California  from  all  quarters  and  continued  to  do  so  in 
unprecedented  numbers.  From  this  fact  the  year  1849 
marked  an  era  in  the  history  of  California  gold  and  all 
who  went  to  the  new  El  Dorado  then  have  since  been 
known  as  forty-niners. 

Of  one  forty-niner  I  have  a  very  vivid  remembrance 
— all  the  more  vivid  because  this  particular  forty-niner 
was  my  father.  And  now  of  something  pertaining  to 
his  experience  I  desire  to  speak. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1849,  my  father  and  three  other 
men  began  making  preparations  for  the  contemplated  trip 
to  California.  A  special  outfit  was  required  for  the  long 
journey  across  the  plains,  over  the  Rocky  Mountains  and 
down  the  western  slope  that  led  to  what  all  had  come  to 
look  upon  as  a  veritable  Land  of  Promise. 


44  The  "Forty-Niner's"  Outfit 

The  plains  of  that  day  are  now  the  fertile  corn  and 
wheat  fields  of  Kansas,  Nebraska,  Colorado  and  Wyom- 
ing. The  outfit  in  which  my  father  and  his  companions 
were  interested  consisted  of  a  strong,  heavy,  made-to- 
order  wagon,  drawn  by  six  oxen  yoked  together  in 
pairs  called  "yokes".  The  wagon  was  covered  with 
heavy  ducking  and  in  it  were  stored  such  things  as  were 
likely  to  be  needed  in  making  the  long  over-land  jour- 
ney, far  from  civilization  and  its  supplies. 

Among  the  things  deemed  essential  may  be  named  cer- 
tain common  tools,  as  handsaws,  augers,  axes  and  hatch- 
ets; such  staple  articles  of  food  as  bacon,  flour,  corn- 
meal,  beans,  coffee,  sugar,  salt  and  pepper;  extra  gar- 
ments of  strong,  durable  fiber ;  and  last,  but  by  no  means 
least,  rifles,  other  fire-arms  and  a  good  supply  of  pow- 
der and  lead  to  make  plenty  of  bullets.  These  last  were 
necessary  because  the  whole  region  west  of  the  Missouri 
was  infested  with  roving  bands  of  Indians  some  of  whom 
were  disposed  to  be  unfriendly.  Further  than  this  there 
were  wolves,  elk,  deer,  antelope,  and  buffalo  in  millions. 

The  family  my  father  left  behind  consisted  of  a  wife 
and  five  children  ranging  in  age  from  a  babe  in  arms 
to  a  daughter  just  budding  into  young  womanhood;  and 
strange  to  say,  at  this  writing,  sixty-six  years  later,  all 
that  family  are  alive,  save  the  parents. 

Arrived  at  St.  Louis  my  father  sold  his  horse  and, 
after  transacting  some  business,  took  passage  on  a  steam- 
boat for  St.  Joseph,  Mo.  At  that  time  Asiatic  Cholera 
was  epidemic  in  all  the  river  towns,  as  the  following 
letter  written  by  him  will  show: 


One  "Forty-Niner"  45 

ST.  JOSEPH,  Mo.,  May  n,  1849. 
Dear  Wife  and  Children: 

I  take  my  pen  in  hand  at  this  last  opportunity  of  writ- 
ing to  let  you  know  that  I  am  yet  alive,  though  it  is  a 
mercy  I  am  not  in  my  grave,  having  so  long  been  in  an 
atmosphere  of  cholera  and  disease.  I  am  just  recover- 
ing from  a  spell  of  disease,  bearing  all  the  symptoms  of 
cholera  except  cramping,  and,  had  I  been  alarmed,  I 
should  have  fallen  a  victim  to  that  disease  as  did  a  num- 
ber on  board. 

The  San  Francisco  had  about  300  passengers,  of  re- 
spectable men  mostly  bound  for  California,  of  whom 
but  two  died,  though  our  boat  occupied  twelve  days  in 
making  her  trip  to  this  place.  But  be  sure  the  cholera 
is  on  and  along  the  river,  the  destruction  of  life  being 
considerable  on  every  boat.  The  most  distressing  scene 
occurred  yesterday:  The  Steamboat  Mary  arrived  hav- 
ing lost  some  forty  of  her  crew  and  passengers,  and  not 
being  permitted  to  land  she  went  up  (the  river)  and 
buried  her  dead.  Then  she  returned  and  later  steamed 
down  the  river  to  find  a  retreat  for  her  sick  and  dying. 
Meantime,  to  see  her  deck  crowded  with  women  and 
children,  who  were  not  allowed  to  land,  was  indeed  a 
melancholy  spectacle.  But  enough  of  this — we  are  here 
and  we  trust  safe.  Our  team  is  over  the  river  and  we 
expect  to  be  on  the  plains  this  evening  without  hearing  a 
word  from  you  since  I  left  home.  In  vain  sought  word 

at  the  Post  Office I  should  like  to  write  about 

the  difficulties  of  navigating  the  Missouri  river  and  all 
about  our  trip  and  how  near  I  came  to  losing  my  life. 

Your  affectionate  Companion  and  Father, 

JAMES  JOHNSON. 


46  A  Toilsome  Journey 

We  received  another  letter  written  two  weeks  later  at 
Fort  Kearney,  now  Grand  Island,  Nebraska,  and  this 
proved  to  be  the  last  one.  In  this  letter  he  stated  that 
2,900  wagons  had  been  registered  at  Fort  Kearney,  and 
this  number  was  thought  to  comprise  less  than  half  the 
train. 

The  wagon  trains  making  these  overland  trips  were 
organized  and  under  the  command  of  leaders.  Of  nights 
the  wagons  were  parked,  the  animals  herded  on  the 
prairie  grass,  and  well  armed  guards  posted  at  all  points 
of  the  compass.  This  course  was  rendered  necessary  to 
prevent  possible  raids  by  Indians.  Two  of  the  four  men 
of  a  certain  wagon  were  a  father  and  son.  The  latter 
was  just  passing  out  of  his  teens,  and  although  it  was 
before  the  day  of  the  dime  novel,  this  youth  became  im- 
bued with  the  idea  that  he  would  reach  full  manhood  all 
the  sooner  if  he  could  somehow  manage  to  "kill  his  In- 
dian." Unfortunately  for  all  concerned,  the  opportunity 
for  this  came  all  too  promptly  and  all  too  certainly. 
Meeting  a  lone  Indian,  the  youth  yielded  to  a  murderous 
impulse,  raised  his  gun,  took  aim  and  fired.  His  victim 
fell  dead  at  his  feet,  as  innocent  of  evil  intent  as  anyone 
could  be. 

A  little  later  the  tribe  took  the  matter  up  and  follow- 
ing the  Old  Testament  rule  of  "an  eye  for  an  eye",  de- 
cided to  demand  of  his  friends  the  surrender  of  the 
murderer  that  he  might  be  put  to  death.  Accordingly 
the  old  men  of  the  tribe  came  to  the  leading  men  of  the 
emigrant  train  and  made  known  their  decision,  and  there 
seemed  nothing  else  to  do  but  surrender  the  rash  youth 
whose  heart-broken  father  could  do  nothing  but  bemoan 
the  fate  which  he  well  knew  would  promptly  overtake 
his  son. 


The  Grim  Reaper  47 


About  the  first  of  June,  1849,  my  father  left  Fort 
Kearney  and  with  his  companions  plunged  deeper  into 
the  wilderness.  As  before  said,  the  letter  written  from 
this  place  was  destined  to  be  the  last  one  he  was  to  write 
to  his  family.  We  learned  later  that  he  wrote  others 
but  these  failed  to  reach  their  destination.  However, 
from  time  to  time  we  heard  from  him  indirectly  through 
letters  written  by  members  of  his  party. 

One  evening  in  the  following  December  two  of  my 
uncles  came  to  our  house  with  countenances  that  be- 
trayed the  sad  errand  that  had  brought  them.  It  turned 
out  that  they  had  just  received  a  letter  from  a  comrade 
of  my  father,  saying  that  ten  weeks  before  he  had  died 
from  an  attack  of  disease  not  long  after  reaching  Sacra- 
mento City.  Such  was  the  fate  of  one  forty-niner — 
reached  the  Land  of  Promise  only  to  find  there  his  grave. 
The  companion  of  my  father,  who  was  near  his  own  age, 
a  man  by  the  name  of  Gillispie,  reached  the  gold-fields 
in  safety,  went  to  mining,  and  at  the  end  of  two  years 
was  two  thousand  dollars  ahead.  With  this  in  his  pos- 
session he  took  a  ship  at  San  Francisco  and  started  home 
by  way  of  Panama.  But  unfortunately  he  was  stricken 
with  an  acute  attack  of  disease  from  which  he  died  and 
was  buried  at  sea.  His  earnings,  fortunately  for  all  con- 
cerned, in  due  time  reached  his  family  in  safety.  The 
two  young  men  of  my  father's  immediate  party  returned 
home  at  the  end  of  two  or  three  years,  with  nothing  to 
their  credit  but  experience.  One  young  man  who  went 
from  our  community,  after  two  years  spent  in  Califor- 
nia returned  with  four  thousand  dollars  in  gold.  This 
in  that  day,  and  in  that  neighborhood,  was  looked  upon 
as  an  almost  fabulous  sum. 

California  gold  made  a  great  increase  in  the  money 


48  Gold  and  Prosperity 

circulation  of  the  country  and  the  result  was  a  real  boom 
in  business  and  a  more  than  doubling  in  the  price  of  all 
commodities.  A  second  result  of  California  gold  was  a 
great  improvement  in  the  manner  and  condition  of  liv- 
ing among  the  people  generally. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  STAGE  COACH,  STAGE  DRIVER,  STAGE  STAND,  AND 
AN  ORIGINAL  DR.  JEKYL  AND  MR.  HYDE. 

Go  call  a  coach,  and  let  a  coach  be  called, 
And  let  the  man  who  calleth  be  a  caller. 

— Henry  Carey. 

Whoe'er  excels  in  what  we  prize, 
Appears  a  hero  in  our  eyes. 

— Swift. 

In  the  late  forties  and  early  fifties,  the  stage  coach 
reached  its  most  prosperous  era.  Long  experience  had 
enabled  its  managers  to  develop  a  capacity  for  overcom- 
ing obstacles,  and  to  a  degree  meeting  the  wants  of  the 
traveling  public.  The  coaches  were  made  of  the  best 
material  obtainable.  Moreover,  the  wheels,  tongue,  axles 
and  doubletrees,  while  strong  and  durable,  were  not 
awkward  and  clumsy  in  appearance.  The  body,  large 
enough  to  accommodate  eight  or  ten  passengers  inside, 
instead  of  resting  on  iron  springs,  was  suspended  on 
heavy  leather  straps.  At  the  rear  end  was  the  boot  for 
carrying  trunks  which  were  protected  from  the  weather 
by  a  strong,  heavy,  leather  curtain,  securely  buckled  to 
the  sides  of  the  coach.  In  front  was  the  driver's  seat 
with  space  at  his  feet  for  the  main  pouch  and  travelers' 
handbags.  A  kind  of  bannister  of  iron  rods  surrounded 
the  top  of  the  coach  where  extra  baggage  and  passengers 
were  carried.  Beside  the  driver  was  an  extra  seat  al- 
ways in  demand  in  fine  weather. 

The  stage  driver  was  a  unique  character.  He  was 

(49) 


50  Accidents  and  Emergencies 

always  trustworthy  and  in  his  way  manly.  The  stage 
lines  carried  the  United  States  mail,  and  it  was  the  busi- 
ness of  the  stage  driver  to  get  this  and  the  passengers 
through  to  their  destination ;  and  this  he  sometimes  had 
to  do  in  the  face  of  many  difficulties.  In  certain  seasons 
the  roads  were  little  else  than  a  slough  of  mud  and  in 
this  the  coach  sometimes  mired  down. 

Then  perhaps  there  would  come  a  time  when  the 
ground  was  partially  frozen,  when  both  horses  and  coach 
would  one  xnoment  be  on  a  crust  of  ice  and  the  next  in 
a  mire  of  mud.  Sometimes  the  tongue  would  break  and 
one  had  to  be  extemporized  from  a  fence  rail  and  rope, 
or  straps.  Sometimes  a  wheel  would  break  down,  and 
again  a  convenient  fence  rail  would  be  utilized  by  fas- 
tening one  end  of  it  on  the  forward  axle,  resting  the 
rear  axle  on  its  middle,  and  leaving  its  other  end  to  drag 
on  the  ground.  Under  these  circumstances  the  jaded 
horses  literally  dragged  the  coach  to  the  next  stage  stand, 
where  it  was  turned  over  to  the  blacksmith  and  wagon 
maker  who  in  those  days  were  experts  in  their  callings. 
Meanwhile  an  extra  coach,  if  one  was  available,  if  not 
a  vehicle  of  some  kind,  was  temporarily  pressed  into 
service  and  the  mail  and  passengers  hauled  to  the  next 
stage  stand. 

One  of  the  delights  of  my  childhood  was  to  watch  an 
incoming  stage  coach.  Upon  approaching  the  village 
the  driver  always  managed  to  put  his  horses  on  their 
mettle  and  as  a  result  they  would  be  in  a  fast  trot  and 
champing  their  bits.  Meanwhile  the  body  of  the  coach, 
suspended  on  leather  straps,  swayed  to  and  fro  in  grace- 
ful curves.  As  soon  as  the  coach  came  to  a  standstill, 
stable  boys  took  out  the  horses  and  put  fresh,  well- 
grooriied  ones  in  their  places.  Meanwhile  the  mail  pouch 


Stage-Coach, 
(A.  C.  McClurg  and  Co.,  by  permission) 


Franklin   House,   Greenville,   111. — a   Stage-Stand   in   the  50's. 
Lincoln  was  once  entertained  here. 


"Changing  the  Mail"  51 

was  taken  to  the  postoffice  where  it  was  opened,  its  con- 
tents emptied  out  and  sorted  over.  After  taking  out 
letters  and  papers  intended  for  that  locality,  the  remain- 
der, with  mail  matter  dropped  in  the  office,  was  returned 
to  the  mail  sack  which  was  locked  and  returned  to  the 
care  of  the  stage  driver.  Putting  the  mail  pouch  through 
this  process  was  called  "changing  the  mail".  When  all 
was  ready,  the  passengers  in  their  seats,  the  trunks  in 
the  boot,  extra  baggage  and  passengers  on  top,  the  driver 
mounted  his  seat,  as  proudly  as  ever  a  king  mounted 
his  throne.  There  with  four  lines  in  one  hand  and  his 
long  whip  in  the  other,  he  could  "touch  up"  the  leaders, 
give  a  "cluck"  and  sharp  "git-up"  to  the  wheel  horses, 
when  all  would  start  off  at  a  lively  trot.  Again  the 
body  of  the  coach  would  sway  gracefully,  again  the 
small  boy  would  be  delighted  and  vow  that  when  he 
grew  to  manhood  he  would  be  a  stage  driver. 

As  stated  before,  whatever  else  the  stage  driver  might 
or  might  not  be,  he  was  always  trustworthy.  In  those 
days  banks  were  few  and  far  between,  and  our  present 
methods  of  exchange  were  very  little  in  vogue;  conse- 
quently the  stage  driver  was  not  unfrequently  entrusted 
with  large  sums  of  money  and  he  never  betrayed  his  trust. 
Though  he  was  almost  never  a  total  abstainer,  on  duty 
he  drank  little  or  nothing.  He  was  always  full  of  good 
stories,  always  chewed  tobacco  and  in  expectorating 
could  hit  the  head  of  a  ten-penny  nail  eight  feet  away. 
Moreover,  if  the  occasion  seemed  to  justify  it,  he  could 
"swear  by  note".  About  every  ten  miles  along  the  stage 
route  there  was  what  was  known  as  a  stage  stand,  where 
there  was  a  tavern  and  a  large  stable  for  housing  and 
caring  for  the  stage  horses.  These  taverns  were  usually 
two-story  buildings  with  a  long  porch  running  the  whole 


52  "A  Mighty  Hot  HeU" 

length  of  the  structure.  On  a  post  about  eight  feet 
high,  between  the  porch  and  the  road,  was  a  frame, 
about  three  feet  long  and  two  feet  wide,  in  which  swung 
a  large  thick  board  upon  which,  in  big  letters,  was  the 
name  of  the  tavern  with  sometimes  the  additional  words, 
"Entertainment  for  Man  and  Beast".  The  first  name  of 
our  village  was  Amity,  consequently  the  tavern  had  on 
its  sign  in  front,  "Amity  Hotel".  Some  wag  read  it, 
A-mity  Hot-el — "A  Mighty  Hot  Hell!",  and  soon  these 
words  were  in  the  mouth  of  every  one.  Whether  from 
this  cause,  or  from  some  other,  the  village  was  given, 
and  yet  bears,  the  name  of  the  famous  Indian  maiden, 
Pocahontas. 

But  this  village  tavern,  despite  its  unseemly  nick- 
name, deserves  more  than  a  passing  notice.  It  was  a 
two-story  structure  with  a  wide  porch  running  the  whole 
length  of  its  front;  through  its  center  was  a  hall  that 
led  into  a  large  dining-room;  and  upon  one  side  of  the 
hall  was  a  lady's  parlor  and  on  the  other  the  office, 
usually  referred  to  as  the  bar-room;  but  why  bar-room, 
no  one  could  tell,  for  not  a  drop  of  intoxicating  drink 
was  sold  about  the  premises,  and  for  that  matter  not 
even  in  the  village;  furthermore  the  landlord  was  a  total 
abstainer.  A  stairway  in  the  hall  led  to  a  number  of 
sleeping  rooms  up  stairs. 

The  food  furnished  was  substantial  and  not  unappe- 
tizing, but  from  lack  of  modern  methods  of  preserving 
meats  and  fruits  the  bill  of  fare  at  certain  seasons  lacked 
variety  and  at  times  came  dangerously  near  to  "hog  and 
hominy".  But  whatever  the  table  lacked  in  off-seasons 
was  more  than  compensated  for  in  late  summer  time, 
when  it  was  literally  loaded  with  things  supposed  to  be 
good  for  the  inner  man. 


The  Typhoid,  Fly  53 


But  O,  the  flies !  Flies  everywhere !  Flies  on  every- 
thing! Flies  m  everything!  But  little  wonder,  for  at 
no  great  distance  from  the  kitchen  door  was  a  big  ma- 
nure pile — an  ideal  incubator  for  hatching  these  house- 
hold pests.  And  what  more  natural  that  the  flies  there 
generated  should  go  straight  to  the  kitchen  and  dining- 
room,  neither  of  which  were  screened  for  the  good  rea- 
son that  the  genius  who  later  devised  that  great  boon 
for  the  housewife,  the  fly  screen,*  had  as  yet  not  had 
his  inspiration. 

About  three  feet  above  the  dining-room  table  and  ex- 
tending its  whole  length  was  a  strong  cord  to  which  was 
attached  strips  of  paper  that  reached  nearly  down  to 
the  dishes.  At  mealtime  it  became  the  duty  of  someone 
to  manipulate  this  cord  in  such  a  way  that  the  papers 
hanging  below  it  were  set  in  motion  and  the  flies  for 
the  time  being  kept  from  alighting  on  the  food. 

In  private  homes  as  mealtime  approached  someone 
went  to  a  bush  or  tree  and  broke  off  a  small  branch  well 
supplied  with  leaves,  and  with  this  industriously  plied, 
the  flies,  with  more  or  less  success,  would  be  kept  from 
the  table.  Instead  of  a  branch  from  a  tree  people  in 
better  circumstances  used  a  brush  made  of  ostrich 
feathers. 

Strange  as  it  now  seems,  flies  in  the  fifties  were  re- 
garded as  scavengers  and  hence  their  coming  in  untold 
numbers  was  welcomed.  On  the  advent  of  summer  I 
more  than  once  heard  the  wise  ones  predict  that  we  were 
destined  to  have  a  sickly  season  for  the  reason  that 
there  were  so  few  flies!  How  things  change!  The 
supposedly  innocent  housefly  of  two  generations  ago  has 


*Fly  screens  came  in  general  use  in  the  later  6o's. 


54  A  'Well-Dressed  Stranger 

been  renamed  the  typhoid  fly,  and  rightly.  Rightly  be- 
cause this  old-time  "scavenger"  of  the  old  days,  not 
only  carries  typhoid  germs,  but  those  of  tuberculosis,  of 
diphtheria,  and  many  other  virulent  diseases  as  well. 

In  my  childhood  the  tavern  and  stage  stand  comprised 
the  real  "hub"  of  the  village.  Here  four  times  every 
day  the  stage,  the  fastest  conveyance  of  its  day,  would 
stop,  well-dressed  strangers  would  alight  to  stretch  their 
legs,  if  not  to  get  meals  at  the  tavern,  alert  stable  boys 
would  care  for  the  horses,  the  always  picturesque  stage 
driver  would  bite  off  an  immense  chew  of  "terbaccer" 
and  maybe  put  a  new  cracker  on  his  whip.  Meanwhile 
the  landlord  had  come  out  and  was  proceeding  to  make 
himself  agreeable.  Usually  with  a  clean  shaven  face 
and  the  appearance  of  being  well  kept,  he  was  all  polite- 
ness and  had  a  kindly  word  for  all. 

One  day  late  in  1851  a  stranger  got  off  the  stage  coach 
and  looked  about  the  village.  He  was  well  dressed,  gen- 
tlemanly in  manner  and  entertaining  in  conversation. 
Later  it  began  to  be  noised  about  that  he  had  money 
and  thought  of  locating  in  the  community.  After  a  time 
both  of  these  rumors  proved  to  be  true;  for  with  ready 
money  he  purchased  a  farm  that  adjoined  the  village. 
'The  only  dwelling  on  this  property  was  an  old  and  long- 
used  log  house,  but  the  stranger,  a  Mr.  Lane,  made  a 
•good  impression  and  every  one  had  a  good  word  for 
him  and  a  kind  wish  for  his  good  wife,  daughter  and 
three  boys.  It  was  not  long  till  he  showed  himself  to 
"be  a  man  of  affairs.  He  was  energetic,  progressive  and 
disposed  to  do  things.  He  bought  additional  land  and, 
in  due  time,  put  this  in  a  high  state  of  cultivation.  Later 
he  became  proprietor  of  the  busiest  store  in  the  com- 
munity, erected  an  up-to-date  dwelling  and  moved  into 


There  Were  Whisperings  55 

it.  Meanwhile  he  had  become  prominent  in  the  com- 
munity and  foremost  in  every  good  work.  He  gave, 
evidence  of  being  sympathetic  and  free-hearted  and 
seemed  ready  to  open  his  pocketbook  when  occasion 
required.  Mr.  Lane,  not  very  long  after  coming  in  the 
community,  was  elected  Sunday  School  superintendent 
on  the  theory,  as  his  sponsor  put  it,  that  "a  new  broom 
sweeps  clean",  and  this  place  he  filled  so  well  that  he 
seemed  to  have  been  made  for  it. 

Every  Sunday  he  went  to  church  and  sat  with  his 
wife  and  children.  This  was  an  innovation,  for,  as  else- 
where stated,  the  men  sat  on  one  side  of  the  church  and 
the  women  on  the  other.  In  every  way  Mr.  Lane 
seemed  to  be  a  model  citizen  and  as  such,  a  real  acces- 
sion to  the  community.  By  and  by  unpleasant  rumors 
began  to  be  whispered — rumors  that  gave  rise  to  the 
query:  Could  there  be  a  rift  in  the  lute?  a  fly  in  the 
ointment?  Mr.  Lane  was  conceded  by  all  to  be  a  very 
energetic,  busy  man  and  it  was  known  that  he  had  to 
go  to  certain  large  cities  to  purchase  goods;  but  it  had 
been  remarked  that  these  visits  seemed  unnecessarily 
frequent.  Dame  Rumor  was  so  inconsiderate  as  to  as- 
sert that  most  of  these  trips  to  large  cities  were  made  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  out  of  sight  and  indulging  in  a 
drunken  spree.  But  in  any  event  he  always  returned 
towards  the  end  of  the  week  and  on  the  following  Sab- 
bath, in  immaculate  dress,  he  would  be  at  church  with 
his  family,  and  apparently  no  one  followed  tne  sermon 
closer  than  he.  No  one  questioned  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Lane  was  a  model  husband  and  father  and  in  his  home 
he  regularly  conducted  family  worship. 

Some  years  later  I  reached  young  manhood,  was  a 


56  A  Dr.  Jekyl  and  Mr.  Hyde 

soldier  in  the  Union  army,*  and  procured  a  furlough, 
at  New  Orleans  took  a  steamboat  to  come  up  the  river; 
and  upon  entering  the  cabin  the  first  man  I  saw  was 
my  old  Sunday  School  superintendent,  Mr.  Lane,  drunk ! 
Yes,  silly  drunk.  Thus  had  the  mighty  fallen!  Thus 
was  broken  one  of  the  idols  of  my  childhood.  When 
it  first  came  out,  I  read  with  much  interest  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson's  "Dr.  Jekyl  and  Mr.  Hyde",  and  at  once 
realized  that  our  own  Mr.  Lane  had  lived  this  double 
life  before  the  noted  author  was  born.  However,  in 
that  period  our  village  afforded  exceptional  opportuni- 
ties for  living  this  dual  life.  It  was  fifteen  miles  from 
the  nearest  railway,  it  had  no  telegraph  and  most  of  our 
villagers  were  disposed  to  attend  to  their  own  affairs. 

As  a  medical  man  of  considerable  experience,  I  now 
know  that  Mr.  Lane  was  what  is  known  as  a  "periodic", 
who  at  certain  times  would  be  stricken  with  a  desire  for 
drink  that  had  to  be  satisfied.  At  such  times  he  would 
have  a  hired  man  hitch  up  the  fastest  horse  to  a  buggy 
and  drive  him  rapidly  to»  the  railway  station;  arrived 
there  he  would  board  a  train  for  St.  Louis,  where  he 
could  drink  his  fill.  From  there  he  would  perhaps  go 
to  first  one  and  another  large  city  and  remain  till  his 
debauch  was  ended.  Then  he  would  return  to  his  hotel, 
wash,  shave,  take  a  bath,  put  on  his  best  clothes  and  in 
due  time  return  home,  seemingly  none  the  worse  for  his 
experience.  Arrived  home  he  would  again  take  up  the 
threads  of  every-day  life  and  apparently  throw  renewed 
energy  in  his  business. 

The  fifties  had  scarce  reached  their  middle  when  the 
swaying  stage  coaches,  the  faithful  stage  horses,  and  the 


*See  Muskets  and  Medicine  by  the  author. 


"Low  Lies  That  House"  57 

always  interesting  stage  driver,  were  all  ordered  to  a  new 
stage  line  in  Iowa!  Why?  Because  in  Illinois  a  newly 
built  steam  railway  had  paralleled  the  stage  line  and  it 
could  no  longer  be  run  with  profit. 

Not  long  ago  I  visited  the  location  of  the  village  stage 
stand,  the  spot  that  in  my  childhood  was  the  "hub"  of 
the  community,  and  I  was  unable  to  find  so  much  as  a 
stone  or  brick  of  what  contributed  to  the  make-up  of  the 
tavern  and  stage  stables.  Indeed,  all  I  saw  was  a  soli- 
tary bush.  I  thought  of  the  following  lines  from  Gold- 
smith's "Deserted  Village" : 

"Near  yonder  thorn  that  lifts  its  head  on  high, 
Where  once  the  sign-post  caught  the  passing  eye, 
Low  lies  that  house 

Where  gray-haired  Mirth  and  smiling  Toil  retired, 
Where  village  statesmen  talked  with  looks  profound 
And  news  much  older  than  their  ale  (?)  went  round;     . 
Imagination  fondly  stoops  to  trace 
The  parlor  splendors  of  that  festive  place, — 
The  whitewashed  wall,  the  nicely  sanded  floor, 
The  varnished  clock  that  ticked  behind  the  door; 
The  hearth,  except  when  winter  chilled  the  day, 
Within  aspen  boughs,  and  flowers,  and  fennel  gay." 


CHAPTER   V. 
A  COUNTRY  STORE  IN  THE  FIFTIES. 

Gum,  gall  and  groceries ;  ginger  and  gin ; 
Tar,  tallow,  tumeric,  turpentine  and  tin. 

— Selected. 

But  in  the  way  of  bargain,  mark  ye  me 
I'll  cavil  on  the  ninth  part  of  a  hair. 

— Shakespeare. 

James  Hike  was  a  leading  and  popular  citizen  of  the 
village.  He  was  agreeable,  approachable,  and  by  some 
of  his  friends  familiarly  called  Jim,  by  others  Hike. 
In  consequence  of  James  Hike's  popularity,  together 
with  the  additional  fact  that  he  was  postmaster,  his 
place  of  business  became  the  popular  resort  of  the  vil- 
lage. In  warm  weather  the  porch  that  ran  the  whole 
length  of  his  store  front  was  a  favorite  gathering-place 
for  the  men  and  boys  of  the  village.  Two  or  three  old 
wooden  chairs,  some  empty  boxes  and  two  boards  along 
the  store-front,  served  as  seats.  Here  in  small  knots, 
in  warm  bright  days,  and  in  larger  number  of  warm 
rainy  days,  the  villagers,  and  the  villagers  reinforced 
from  the  farms,  gathered  and  discussed  various  topics, 
told  stories  and  gossiped  about  their  neighbors.  The 
crops,  the  weather,  present  and  prospective,  the  roads, 
the  latest  arrival  in  the  village,  the  new  circuit  rider, 
letters  from  friends  in  California,  were  only  some  of  the 
things  talked  about.  Old,  white-haired  men,  rich  in  ex- 
periences, down  to  bare- footed,  tow-headed  boys,  who 
had  eyes  and  ears  for  all  that  was  to  be  seen  and  heard, 
(58) 


Listening  and  Whittling  59 

made  up  the  gathering  on  Hike's  porch.  Almost  every 
adult  had  either  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  or  a  knife  in  his 
hand,  and  some  were  supplied  with  both.  The  pipes 
seemed  to  have  the  quality  of  loosening  tongues,  and  the 
knives  fixed  the  attention  and  quickened  the  sense  of 
hearing. 

Possibly  the  two  last-named  effects  were  due  to  the 
fact  that  those  who  held  the  knives  had  their  nerves 
steadied  by  cutting  and  whittling — cutting  letters,  names 
and  rude  figures  of  men  or  animals  upon  the  boxes, 
boards  or  wooden  chairs  upon  which  they  were  seated. 
Others  .were  just  as  intently  whittling  away  upon  pine 
sticks,  pieces  of  box  lids  that  they  were  trimming  into 
various  shapes,  but  generally  into  sharp  points  or  rounded 
extremities.  With  the  talkers  it  was  puff,  puff,  with 
the  listeners  it  was  cut,  cut,  whittle,  whittle. 

There  was  one  frequenter  of  Hike's  porch  who  was 
greatly  given  to  exaggeration.  Indeed,  extravagance  in 
the  receipt  of  impressions  and  exaggeration  in  the  state- 
ment of  fact  seemed  to  be  constitutional  with  Jack  Jaw- 
good,  for  such  was  the  man's  name.  His  ear  drums 
must  have  been  geared  with  multipliers  and  his  retinae 
supplied  with  magnifiers,  so  sure  was  he  to  hear  and 
see  things  in  a  much  bigger  way  than  common  people. 
Jack  Jawgood  was  garrulous  and  unless  some  more  in- 
teresting talker  was  present,  was  sure  to  command  lis- 
teners. Jawgood  was  tall,  lean,  lank,  had  big  brown 
eyes  and  a  hooked  nose.  He  nearly  always  wore  a  hunt- 
ing shirt,  brown  jeans  trousers  that  were  generally  too 
short,  and  an  old  black  wool  hat  devoid  of  band  and 
without  shape  in  rim.  In  hot  weather  he  often  went 
barefooted  and  in  winter  wore  brogan  shoes  and  coarse, 
white,  woolen  socks  the  tops  of  which  barely  reached 


60  Jack  Jawgood 


the  bottom  of  his  trousers  when  he  was  standing.  But 
when  seated  a  considerable  gap  was  left  between  trou- 
sers and  socks,  which  exposed  to  view  a  hairy  patch  of 
shin.  Jack  was  ever  on  the  alert  for  the  latest  bit  of 
neighborhood  news.  An  accident  of  any  kind,  a  run- 
away, a  fight,  a  broken  arjn,  a  sudden  fit  of  sickness  or 
a  moral  lapse  anywhere  in  the  community  was  a  newsy 
tidbit  to  the  morbid  makeup  of  Jack  Jawgood.  Stocked 
with  one  or  more  items  of  the  kind,  he  straightway  went 
to  Hike's  porch  and,  with  no  end  of  magnifying,  pro- 
ceeded to  recount  what  he  had  heard  or  seen.  His  ac- 
count was  always  interlarded  with  such  expressions  as 
"sure  as  I  am  alive  he  said"  so  and  so;  "I  wish  I  may 
die  if  I  didn't  see".  Jawgood  seemed  to  snatch  up  bits 
of  news  much  as  a  cow  would  blades  of  grass.  Like 
the  cow,  too,  later  chewing  her  cud,  he,  at  Hike's  porch 
in  his  long  drawn  out  narrations,  chewed  over  and  over 
his  collected  news  items  with  much  exaggeration  and 
extreme  satisfaction.  The  villagers  all  knew  Jack 
Jawgood  and  his  love  of  exaggerated  narration.  Hence 
he  was  not  unf requently  greeted  with  such  inquiries  as : 
'Hey,  Jack!  What  do  you  know  today?"  Or,  "Jack, 
what  is  your  latest?"  These  questions  were  generally 
accompanied  with  a  wink  or  knowing  look  at  some  by- 
stander. Jawgood  had  an  imperturbable  countenance, 
and  if  these  inquiries  ever  disturbed  him  no  one  was  the 
wiser.  Indeed,  it  is  more  than  probable  they  flattered 
him.  Jack  had  no  rival ;  in  fact  he  monopolized  the  field. 
The  village  had  no  newspaper.  But  times  have  changed. 
The  modern  village  newspaper  has  driven  more  than  one 
Jack  Jawgood  out  of  business. 

In  cold  weather  the  porch  was  deserted  and  the  in- 
side of  Hike's  store,  about  its  warm  stove,  became  a  fa- 


A  Village  "Club"  61 

vorite  gathering  place.  But  the  winter  circle  was  smaller, 
more  select  and  altogether  less  democratic  than  the  hot- 
weather  porch  gathering.  Old  age  and  inexperienced 
youth  were  much  less  in  evidence.  Here  of  evenings 
gathered  among  others  the  two  or  three  village  pettifog- 
gers, the  school  teacher,  the  blacksmith,  the  shoemaker, 
one  or  more  of  the  school  directors  and  at  times  the 
circuit  rider.  The  circle  was  eminently  respectable  and 
while  there  was  no  formal  organization,  yet  it  was  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  a  real  village  club,  where  were 
discussed  the  latest  news,  crops,  business,  prices,  politics, 
etc.  Each  one  in  attendance  found  his  wits  sharpened, 
his  hunger  for  social  intercourse  satisfied  and  often  re- 
alized that  his  fund  of  general  information  had  increased. 

All  the  goods  in  Hike's  store  were  hauled  by  wagon 
from  St.  Louis,  forty  miles  to  the  west ;  and  in  exchange 
for  these  the  proprietor  received  all  kinds  of  country 
produce,  such  as  eggs,  butter,  lard,  bacon,  wool,  hides 
and  indeed  almost  any  of  the  smaller  farm  products. 

The  money  of  that  time  fell  under  two  general  classes, 
namely  "hard"  and  "paper".  Hard  money  comprised 
all  coins  of  gold,  silver  and  copper.  For  the  most  part 
gold  was  coined  into  twenty,  ten  and  five-dollar  pieces, 
though  occasionally  a  one-dollar  gold  coin  was  found  in 
circulation. 

Silver  was  coined  into  pieces  of  one  dollar,  fifty  cents, 
twenty-five  cents,  ten  cents  and  five  cents  in  value. 
Early  in  the  fifties  two  or  three  other  silver  pieces  were 
in  circulation,  picayune  and  "bits".  A  picayune  had  the 
value  of  six  and  one-fourth  cents,  and  a  bit  twice  that, 
or  twelve  and  one-half  cents.  As  a  bit  was  just  half  the 
value  of  twenty-five  cents,  the  latter  coin  was  nearly 


62  "Wild.  Cat"  Banks 

always  called  two  bits;  likewise  fifty  cents  was  called 
four  bits. 

Copper  then,  as  now,  was  coined  into  one-cent  pieces, 
and  occasionally  t\vo-cent  coppers  were  seen.  However, 
coppers  were  little  used  except  in  making  change  for 
postage  stamps.  Goods  were  never  priced  less  than  five 
cents.  For  illustration,  when  the  merchant  was  marking 
his  goods  the  last  figure  was  always  a  5  or  an  o;  i,  2, 
3,  4,  6,  7,  8  and  9  never  appeared  in  such  place.  The 
result  was  cent-pieces  were  seldom  needed  in  making 
change  in  the  stores. 

By  far  the  greatest  variety  in  the  money  of  that  time 
occurred  in  the  paper  circulation.  The  local  banks  all 
issued  paper  money  in  amounts  to  suit  themselves  and 
the  result  was  a  great  deal  of  it  was  of  questionable 
value;  then  the  bills  were  easily  counterfeited.  Many 
of  the  moneyed  institutions  were  so  unreliable  that  they 
were  known  as  "wild-cat"  banks.  Banks  of  this  char- 
acter were  constantly  failing  and  meantime  the  counter- 
feiter was  busy  striving  to  duplicate  the  issue  of  respon- 
sible firms.  To  keep  business  men  in  touch  with  all  this, 
what  was  known  as  a  "Counterfeit  Detector"  was  issued 
regularly.  This  was  a  folder  about  the  size  of  an  old- 
fashioned  Almanac  and  was  expected  to  give  the  up- 
to-date  status  of  every  banking  institution  within  a  given 
locality.  Every  progressive  business  man  was  a  sub- 
scriber to  a  "Counterfeit  Detector"  and  when  a  customer 
presented  a  paper  bill  that  he  was  not  familiar  with  he 
at  once  referred  to  what  was  his  oracle  in  currency 
matters.  Sometimes  the  customer  was  told  his  bill  was 
counterfeit  and  of  course  worthless;  at  other  times  he 
would  be  informed  that  the  bank  which  had  issued  an- 
other bill  had  failed  but  was  paying  a  certain  amount 


Everything  in  Stock  63 

on  the  dollar  and  this  amount  would  be  allowed  the 
customer.  What  the  merchant  said  "always  went",  as 
the  slang  has  it,  and  the  customer  always  abided  by  his 
decision. 

In  addition  to  keeping  a  general  store,  James  Hike, 
as  before  noted,  was  the  village  postmaster  and  faith- 
fully changed  the  mail  when  the  stage  coach  came  in. 
In  the  late  forties  and  early  fifties  envelopes  had  not 
yet  come  in  use  and  consequently  the  sheet  of  foolscap 
upon  which  the  letter  was  written  was  folded,  addressed 
and  sealed  with  sealing  wax,  a  stick  of  which  was  always 
kept  at  hand  for  this  purpose.  At  this  period  letters 
were  always  dropped  in  the  postoffice  and  sent  to  the  one 
addressed  who  paid  the  postage  due,  and  this  was  never 
less  than  five  cents,  and  from  that  on  up,  in  proportion 
to  distance.  From  what  has  been  said  it  will  be  seen 
that  postage  stamps  had  not  yet  come  in  use.  Postage 
stamps,  much  as  we  have  them  today,  came  in  use  in 
the  mid-fifties,  however. 

"James  Hike — Dry  Goods"  stood  for  a  general  store 
in  which  was  on  sale  everything  from  a  darning  needle 
up  to  a  barrel  of  flour.  Upon  shelves  at  one  side  of  the 
store  were  dress  goods,  woolens,  shirting,  drilling,  bon- 
nets and  other  articles  of  millinery.  On  shelves  at  the 
other  side  were  hats,  caps,  boots,  shoes,  underwear,  and 
other  things  similar.  Upon  tables  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  were  overcoats,  overalls,  coats,  trousers,  and  other 
articles  of  men's  apparel.  At  the  back  of  the  store  was 
a  counter  whereon  everything  in  the  line  of  groceries 
was  weighed  out.  So  full  was  the  store  that  wherever 
on  counter,  shelf  or  even  floor,  a  bit  of  space  could  be 
found  it  was  occupied  by  such  articles  as  tubs,  buckets, 


64  Whisky  and  Molasses 

tinware,  saddles,  harness,  chains,  rope,  spades,  forks  and 
a  miscellany  of  other  things. 

In  the  shed-room  adjoining,  plows,  harrows,  ox-yokes, 
barrels  of  flour,  salt,  molasses  and,  as  before  named, 
whisky  were  on  sale.  Alongside  of  the  molasses  barrel 
was  the  whisky  barrel.  Both  were  drawn  from  alike 
and  as  little  was  thought  of  filling  the  whisky  jug  as  of 
filling  the  molasses  jug.  Such  a  thing  as  selling  beer  and 
whisky  over  the  counter  by  the  drink  was  unheard  of. 
Respectable  people  had  whisky  in  their  houses,  for  the 
most  part  for  medicinal  purposes  solely.  Of  course  others 
took  advantage  of  its  free  and  open  sale  to  get  it  for  a 
beverage.  But  for  whatsoever  purpose  whisky  was 
bought,  its  open  sale  was  in  no  sense  regarded  as  a  re- 
flection on  the  proprietor  of  the  store,  James  Hike.  In- 
deed, Hike's  store  was  the  pride  of  the  village  and  every 
resident  believed  every  man's  needs  could  be  satisfied 
there. 

One  such  resident  was  Joe  Dobbins,  a  cattle  buyer 
and  horse  trader.  Coming  in  from  a  trading  tour  one 
day  on  the  stage  coach,  Dobbins  found  himself  in  com- 
pany with  an  acquaintance,  Pete  Stover,  who,  like  him- 
self, was  a  stock  dealer.  Stover  lived  in  another  county 
and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  Hike's  store  came 
up  for  consideration.  "Tell  what  'tis,  Pete,  Jim  Hike 
keeps  mighty  nigh  ev-ry  thing  in  his  store." 

"Mighty  nigh  ev'ry  thing's  sayin'  a  good  deal;  guess 
you  don't  mean  it  all,  Joe." 

"I  don't  hey?  You  cain't  name  nuthin  Jim  Hike 
hain't  got!"  said  the  bantering  Joe  Dobbins. 

"Cain't  I,  though?  How  about  balloons?  Course  I 
mean  big  balloons  that'll  take  a  feller  up  and  tote  him 
off." 


A  Wager  65 

"Now,  Pete  Stover,  s'pose  you  tote  fair  and  name 
somethin'  a  man  in  my  county  and  your'n  's  like  to 
need." 

"You  mean  what  a  common  farmin'  kind  of  a  feller'd 
need  'bout  his  house  and  place,  Joe?" 

"Now  you're  gittin'  round,  Pete,  kaze  that's  jist  what 
I  mean." 

"Tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Joe;  I'll  name  somethin'  that 
jist  the  commonest  kind  of  a  feller  might  ask  for  and 
I'll  go  you  a  ten-dollar  'shiner'  your  man  what's-his-name 
haint  got  it." 

"Nuff  said!  Here's  my  money,  where's  your'n,"  was 
the  prompt  reply  of  Joe  Dobbins  as  he  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  and  pulled  out  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece  that  he 
held  up  in  plain  view. 

"O  I'll  match  you.  Who'll  hold  the  stakes?"  Just  as 
promptly  answered  Pete  Stover,  likewise  pulling  a  ten- 
dollar  gold  piece  from  his  pocket,  and  adding:  "Why, 
Bill  Hicks  that's  drivin'  this  gocart.  Say  Bill,  me  'n 
Pete  here's  made  a  bet ;  you're  to  hold  stakes.  I  got  ten 
dollars  'at  says  Pete  cain't  ask  Jim  Hike  fur  nuthin'  a 
common  feller  'd  want  that  Jim  haint  got  in  his  store. 
And  Pete's  got  a  yallar  boy  'at's  tryin'  to  say  Pete  kin. 
Them's  the  terms.  But  the  conditions  is :  If  Hike's  clean 
empty  and  caint  come  down  with  what  Pete  wants  then 
Pete  gits  my  ten.  But  if  Jim's  loaded  and  trots  out  what 
Pete  calls  fur  then  I  git  all  'at's  in  your  hands." 

In  due  time  the  village  was  reached,  and  the  three  men, 
most  interested,  went  to  Hike's  store,  and  just  before 
crossing  its  threshold  Joe  Dobbins  took  occasion  to  say 
to  Pete  Stover:  "Name  your  article!" 

"Goose-yokes,"  promptly  answered  Pete. 

Joe's  countenance  fell,  and  is  it  any  wonder?      What 


66  Goose-Yokes 


merchant  would  have  goose-yokes  in  stock?  But  resolv- 
ing to  make  the  most  of  what  seemed  a  desperate  situa- 
tion, Joe  Dobbins  put  on  a  bold  front  and  entering  the 
store  with  his  two  companions  called  out  in  as  firm  a 
voice  as  he  could  command: 

"Say,  Jim,  got  any  goose-yokes?" 

The  merchant  thought  a  minute  and  answered,  "Yes, 
I  believe  I  have;  in  fact,  come  to  think,  I  know  there's 
some  in  the  loft.  How  many  do  you  want?" 

Joe  Dobbins's  face  brightened  up  under  a  broad  smile 
as  he  said: 

"Shaw,  Jim!   You  haint  got  no  goose-yokes,  nuther!" 

"Yes,  I  have  got  goose-yokes,"  said  the  merchant,  "and 
now  I  mind  how  I  come  by  them.  Jake  Bunch,  up  in  the 
Forks,  had  a  lot  of  geese  that  kept  crawling  through  his 
neighbor's  fences  and  pestering  them  shamefully.  Now 
Jake's  wife  wanted  to  keep  the  geese,  but  Jake  didn't 
like  to  harm  anybody.  Somewhere  he  heard  of  goose- 
yokes  and  one  day  came  in  and  asked  me  to  get  him  a 
lot.  So  I  sent  for  them.  They  were  a  long  time  getting 
here,  but  at  last  they  came.  One  day  after  they'd  come 
Jake  Bunch  was  in  and  I  told  him  his  goose-yokes  were 
here.  'I'm  sorry,'  said  Jake,  'cause  the  geese  are  all  dead 
with  poisen  that  we  think  somebody  must  have  fed  them 
on,  but  we  are  saying  nothing.  Of  course  I  don't  need 
the  goose-yokes,  but  I'll  pay  you  for  them.'  Bunch  was 
a  good  customer  and  so  I  kept  the  goose-yokes  and  let 
him  keep  his  money,  and  here's  my  chance  to  sell  that 
lot  of  goose-yokes  and  yours  to  get  them,  but  I  did  not 
know  you  kept  geese,  Joe." 

"I  don't  and,  comin'  to  the  pint,  I  don't  want  your 
goose-yokes,  Jim.  I  jist  wanted  to  know  that  yu'd  got 


Easily  Won  67 

'um.  Fact  is,  I  got  ten  dollars  dependin'  on  your  havin' 
'urn.  Haint  I,  Bill  Hicks?" 

"Guess  you're  right,"  said  the  stage-driver,  "and  if 
your  friend  don't  put  up  any  objections  I'll  jist  hand  you 
over  the  stakes." 

As  by  this  time  the  clerk  appeared  with  an  armfull  of 
goose-yokes,  Pete  Stover  was  in  no  position  to  make  any 
objection  to  what  the  stakeholder  had  said.  So  the 
money  was  put  in  the  hands  of  the  exultant  Dobbins,  and 
meantime  Hicks  and  Stover  passed  out  of  the  store  door. 
They  were  hardly  out  of  sight  when  Dobbins  related  to 
the  storekeeper  all  the  details  of  the  wager,  closing  with 
the  words: 

"Tell  you  what  'tis,  Jim;  no  durned  furriner's  goin' 
to  run  down  Jim  Hike's  store  while  I'm  round  and  long's 
I  got  a  dollar  in  my  pocket  what  kin  talk." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

CHURCHES,  CHURCH  PEOPLE  AND  PREACHERS  IN  THE 
FIFTIES. 

And  fools  came  to  scoff  and  remained  to  pray. 

— Goldsmith. 

Who  builds  a  church  to  God  and  not  to  fame, 
Will  never  mark  the  marble  with  his  name. 

— Pope. 

At  this  period  there  were  comparatively  few  church 
buildings  really  worthy  of  the  name.  True  there  was 
here  and  there  a  "meeting-house",  a  barn-like  struc- 
ture, with  architectural  arrangements  as  unattractive 
as  too  often  were  the  doctrines  expounded  from  its  pul- 
pit. Many  rural  communities,  however,  did  not  even 
have  these  uninviting  places  of  worship  and,  under 
these  circumstances,  the  always  hospitable  school-house 
opened  its  doors.  Here  it  may  be  proper  to  say  that 
most  of  the  religious  people  of  that  era  were  affiliated 
with  the  Methodists — a  denomination  that  always  did, 
and  always  would,  hold  meetings  somewhere.  If  a 
church  was  not  available,  then  a  schoolhouse  would  be 
utilized,  provided  one  could  be  had.  In  the  event  this, 
for  any  reason,  was  impracticable,  the  preacher  would 
hold  his  meeting  in  a  private  house,  or  if  this  was  too 
small,  in  a  grove,  and  in  case  it  rained,  a  barn  would 
be  utilized.  Someway,  somehow,  somewhere,  the  zeal- 
ous circuit  rider  of  two  generations  ago  managed  to 
carry  the  gospel  of  the  Lowly  Nazarene  to  practically 
(68) 


An  Up-To-Date  Church  in  the  Mid-Fifties.     M.  E.  Church 

erected  in  Pocahontas,  111.,  in  1854. 
(Courtesy  of  Dr.  D.  R.  Wilkins,  Pocahontas) 


An  Up-to-Date  Church  69 

all  the  people.  Attendance  upon  religious  services  was 
always  referred  to  as  going  to  "meeting",  instead  of 
going  to  church. 

About  the  middle  of  the  fifties,  the  good  people  of 
my  village  very  wisely  decided  that  they  had  been  long 
enough  without  a  suitable  place  of  worship.  Accord- 
ingly, in  a  very  practical  spirit,  they  put  their  hands 
in  their  pockets  and  took  out  the  price  of  what,  in  that 
day,  was  an  up-to-date  church.  Every  stick  of  lumber 
in  this  was  white-pine,  a  building  material  that  the  re- 
cently-constructed steam  railways  had  made  available. 
This  lumber  was  hauled  by  wagon  from  a  station  on  the 
Ohio  and  Mississippi  Railway  (now  the  B.  and  0.) 
fifteen  miles  from  our  village.  When  this  church  of 
white-pine  was  finished  and  given  two  coats  of  immacu- 
late white  paint,  it  straightway  became  the  pride  of 
the  village,  and  although  universally  regarded  as  up- 
to-date  in  every  particular,  its  arrangement  was  simple 
in  the  extreme.  In  front  was  a  platform  of  boards 
from  which  two  doors  opened  into  the  church.  Through 
the  south  door  passed  the  men,  who  took  seats  in  the 
two  south  rows  of  pews.  Through  the  north  door  the 
women  had  access  to  two  rows  of  seats  on  the  north 
side  of  the  church.  In  the  farther  end  was  an  en- 
closed, white-pine  pulpit,  approached  on  either  side  by 
a  short  flight  of  steps.  At  the  right  and  left  of  the 
pulpit,  and  parallel  with  it,  were  several  rows  of  pews 
which  the  ungodly  had  profanely  named  the  "amen- 
seats".  This  name  had  undoubtedly  originated  in  the 
fact  that  the  more  faithful  among  the  members  always 
found  seats  in  these  pews  and  when  the  minister  made 
some  striking  point  they  were  in  the  habit  of  "speakin* 
out  in  meetin'  "  and  in  no  uncertain  tones  saying, 


70  An  Expectorating  Preacher 

"Amen,  Amen!"  In  the  sides  of  the  building  were  the 
usual  rows  of  high,  narrow  windows.  In  the  front  end 
and  between  the  doors  was  a  large  box  stove  with  a 
pipe  that  ran  to  the  ceiling,  where  it  turned  and  fol- 
lowed this  to  the  farther  end  of  the  building,  and  there, 
immediately  over  the  pulpit,  it  entered  a  chimney  in 
the  wall. 

The  church  was  lighted  by  candles  placed  in  holders 
along  the  walls  and  in  rude  chandeliers  hanging  from 
the  ceiling. 

Not  very  long  after  this  church  was  built  a  preacher 
of  mature  years  was  sent  to  the  congregation  who  was 
in  the  habit  of  using  tobacco  and  expectorating  rather 
promiscuously.  In  this  particular  he  did  not  even  re- 
spect the  sacred  precincts  of  his  pulpit.  Things  went 
on  in  this  way  for  a  time,  till  finally  some  of  the  young 
men  and  women  of  the  church  decided  to  have  a  gen- 
eral cleaning-up.  Accordingly  one  fine  day  broom,  dust- 
rag  and  scrubbing  brush  were  applied  thoroughly  and 
vigorously.  No  corner,  no  crevice  in  the  building,  or 
in  the  pulpit,  was  neglected.  When  all  was  finished  a 
small,  strong  box  was  filled  with  clean  sand  and  at- 
tached to  one  of  its  sides  was  a  placard  bearing  in  large 
letters  the  words  "Spit  Here". 

Many  of  the  ministers  preached  a  fiery  gospel  and 
had  no  little  to  say  about  the  "unquenchable  fire"  into 
which,  after  death,  presumably  all  unrepentant  sinners 
would  be  cast.  In  this  connection  I  will  refer  to  the 
case  of  a  man  in  another  neighborhood  who  in  a  sort 
of  holy  horror  was  referred  to  as  an  avowed  Univer- 
salist  and  consequently  was  thought  to  be  little  short 
of  cloven-footed. 

Four  times  every  year  came  the  Quarterly  meeting, 


Making  It  Attractive  71 

which  all  looked  forward  to  with  pleasurable  anticipa- 
tion. To  these  Quarterly  meetings  always  came  the 
Presiding  Elder,  who  in  most  instances  was  a  relatively 
able  preacher.  One  of  these  by  the  name  of  Mitchell  I 
yet  recall  with  pleasure.  In  contrast  to  many  others, 
he  was  fond  of  presenting  the  more  attractive  side  of 
religion.  Nothing  appeared  to  please  him  so  much  as 
in  well  chosen  words  to  depict  the  delights  and  joys 
of  Heaven,  to  which  he  seemed  to  take  it  as  a  matter 
of  course  we  were  all  going.  In  this  state  of  mind  his 
eyes  would  beam,  his  face  would  light  up  with  radiant 
smiles  while  the  musical  tones  of  his  welcome  words 
fell  upon  delighted  listeners — delighted  because  his 
hearers  could  but  compare  his  attractive  words,  the 
winning  expression  of  his  features  and  his  kindly  man- 
ner with  the  harsh  tones,  repulsive  contortions  and 
fierce  pulpit-poundings  of  too  many  preachers  of  that 
day  as  they  portrayed  the  literal  hell  into  which  they 
seemed  to  think  the  majority  of  mankind  were  destined 
to  sink. 

Every  winter  there  was  a  Protracted  Meeting  at 
which  it  was  hoped  all  the  church  members  would  get 
new  zeal  and  all  the  non-church  members  would  "get 
religion".  For  this  last  purpose  a  "mourners'  bench'' 
was  provided.  This  was  a  long  seat  without  a  back, 
placed  in  front  of  the  pulpit  and  at  which  all  kneeled 
who  wanted  to  get  religion. 

To  this  mourners'  bench  came  not  a  few  hardened 
sinners  who  certainly  needed  some  kind  of  reformation 
in  their  lives.  To  it  also  came  youths  whose  greatest 
transgression  was,  perhaps,  some  mischievous  prank 
played  upon  a  schoolmate.  To  it  also  came  young 
misses  who,  so  far  from  being  sinners,  were  the  very 


72  A  Religious  Rounder 

embodiment  of  innocence  in  their  every-day  lives.  But 
the  hard  theology  of  the  day  taught  these  innocent 
young  people  that  they  must  seek,  must  implore,  nay 
must  "agonize",  till  their  many  sins  were  forgiven  and 
they  could  "flee  from  the  wrath  to  come". 

In  the  community  were  certain  characters  who,  for 
the  want  of  a  better  name,  might  be  termed  religious 
rounders.  These  individuals  would  get  religion  at  ev- 
ery protracted  meeting  and  in  a  few  weeks  somehow 
manage  to  get  rid  of  it.  One  of  these  religious  rounders 
was  an  ox-driver,  a  six-footer  with  a  loud,  stentorian 
voice.  When  this  man  was  so  fortunate  as  once  more 
to  get  religion  he  would  work  himself  into  a;  sort  of 
ecstatic  state  and  shout  so  loud  and  so  long,  that  the 
dead  would  almost  awaken.  He  not  unfrequently  lead 
in  prayer,  and  as  he  always  used  substantially  the  same 
words,  some  of  us  youngsters  could  not  help  "learning 
by  heart"  his  oft-repeated  supplication.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  numerous  times  this  man  fell  from  grace,  after 
each  regeneration,  in  a  voice  that  could  be  heard  a  mile 
away,  he  would  go  about  his  work  singing  that  old 
hymn: 

"I'll  never  turn  back  any  more, 
Any  more,  any  more,  I'll  never  turn  back,  I'll  never  turn  back." 

Such  a  thing  as  church  music,  as  we  understand  it 
today,  was  unknown  in  the  period  of  which  I  write. 
Indeed,  by  many,  anything  besides  the  human  voice, 
raised  in  songful  worship,  was  deemed  sacreligious. 
Hymn  books  were  few  and  none  were  in  the  pews,  con- 
sequently the  preacher  would  "line  the  hymn"  that  the 
congregation  might  sing  it.  Is  some  reader  of  a  younger 


A  Pleasant  Memory 


generation  curious  to  know  what  the  preacher  really 
did  when  he  "lined"  a  hymn?  He  simply  read  two 
lines,  then  paused  till  these  were  sung  by  the  congrega- 
tion, then  read  two  more,  waited  till  these  were  sung, 
and  so  on  till  the  end  was  reached. 

Lining  a  hymn  was  perhaps  a  relic  of  the  days  when, 
there  were  no  hymn  books  and  none  was  really  needed 
because  the  people,  for  the  most  part,  could  not  read. 
In  due  time  the  people  began  to  provide  themselves 
with  hymn  books  and  for  some  time  after  this  provision 
the  preacher  when  announcing  the  hymn  would  say: 
"Please  sing  without  lining". 

But  whatever  else  may  have  been  said  of  these  church 
members  they  were  liberal  and  accommodating  in  allow- 
ing ministers  of  other  denominations  to  occupy  their 
pulpit.  True,  the  regular  preacher  had  several  other 
appointments  that  he  had  to  fill  and  in  consequence  he 
could  use  the  pulpit  of  his  village  church  but  once  in 
two  weeks. 

One  pleasant  memory  deeply  impressed  on  my  mind 
in  connection  with  the  outside  use  of  this  pulpit  was 
when  a  Lutheran  minister  from  another  town  preached 
and  brought  with  him  an  orchestra  which  furnished 
the  music  in  delightful  strains  that  thrilled  us  young- 
sters. 

At  odd  times  this  pulpit  was  occupied  by  a  minister 
of  different  type  from  any  of  those  above  described. 
This  man,  in  the  prime  of  a  superb  manhood,  was  six 
feet  in  height,  finely  proportioned  and  had  handsome 
features.  His  sermons  were  thoughtful  and  scholarly 
and  delivered  in  the  silvery  tones  of  a  fine  voice.  He 
was  a  good  singer,  always  led  in  this  part  of  the  wor- 
ship, and  it  was  a  real  treat  to  hear  his  voice  as  it 


74  Preachers  and  Preachers 

rounded  out  in  the  full,  rich  tones  to  the  music  of  some 
fine  old  tune,  such  as  Balerma,  Boylston,  Duke  Street, 
Siloam,  and  others. 

This  man  was  always  something  of  a  mystery  to  me. 
All  conceded  him  to  be  an  able  pulpit  man  indeed,  one 
far  above  the  average.  Moreover,  he  was  universally 
esteemed  and  liked.  Those  who  knew  him  best,  and 
were  best  qualified  to  judge,  could  but  wonder  why 
he  was  not  filling  a  high  salaried  pulpit  in  some  large 
city.  As  it  was  he  lived  on  a  rather  poor  farm  and 
preached  wherever,  and  whenever,  opportunity  offered. 
I  have  since  learned  that  he  was  a  Presbyterian  mis- 
sionary and  conscientiously  believed  the  field  he  was 
working  in  afforded  him  ample  opportunities  to  do 
good,  and  unquestionably  he  did  it. 

Another  type  was  a  Baptist  minister  who  frequently 
occupied  the  pulpit  on  off  Sundays.  His  sermons  were 
thoughtful  and  carefully  written  out.  These  he  deliv- 
ered, or  rather  read,  in  a  conversational  tone  and  never 
raised  his  eyes  from  his  manuscript.  This  man's  man- 
ner and  methods  were  in  striking  contrast  to  the  vigor- 
ous delivery  and  ringing  words  of  practically  all  the 
preachers  of  the  day. 

The  Sabbath  School  at  this  church  was  non-denomi- 
national and  was  known  as  a  Union  Sunday  School. 
It  had  a  little  library  of  books  published  by  the  Ameri- 
can Union  Sunday  School  Publishing  Association  of 
Philadelphia ;  and  while  some  of  these  were  of  the  sickly 
kind  where  the  willful  boy  always  goes  to  the  everlast- 
ing bow-wows  and  the  goody-goody  boy  always  meets 
with  success  and  grows  up  to  be  governor  of  his  State, 
yet  for  the  most  part,  the  books  were  well  selected  and 
were  interesting,  and  helpful  to  young '  people.  This 


"Visit  to  the  Hive",  Frontispiece  in  "The  Hive 
and  its  Wonders",  a  small  volume  published  hy 
the  American  Sunday  School  Union  in  1851. 


I  Acknowledge  My  Obligations  75 

publishing  house  also  printed  a  little  paper,  and  I  shall 
always  remember  the  picture  at  the  top  of  its  first 
page — a  neat  little  church  with  a  graceful  spire  and 
a  comely  woman  leading  a  little  boy  with  one  hand  and 
a  little  girl  with  the  other,  all  evidently  going  to  Sab- 
bath School.  This  Union  Sunday  School  certainly  filled 
what  would  otherwise  have  been  a  hiatus  in  the  lives 
of  the  young  people  of  the  village,  and  I  take  pleasure 
in  acknowledging  my  obligations  to  it. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

SPORTS,  AMUSEMENTS  AND  SOME  OTHER  THINGS. 

Dear  lovely  bowers  of  innocence  and  ease, 

Seats  of  my  youth,  when  every  sport  could  please ! 
*          *  ****** 

How  often  have  I  blessed  the  coming  day, 
When  toil  remitting,  lent  its  turn  to  play. 

— Goldsmith. 

I  had  rather  have  a  Tool  to  make  me  merry, 
Than  experience  to  make  me  sad. 

— Shakespeare. 

Amusements  were  few  and  simple  and  foremost 
among  these,  for  the  men  folks,  was  hunting,  for  there 
was  yet  much  small  game  in  the  country.  In  quest  of 
this,  half-grown  boys,  not  a  few  young  men,  and  cer- 
tain grown-ups,  who  had  the  hunting  instinct  ingrained 
in  their  natures,  found  much  satisfaction. 

My  native  village  of  Pocahontas  was  in  the  edge  of 
the  timber.  To  the  west  Looking-Glass  prairie  extended 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach;  to  the  east  was  the  "forest 
primeval"  that  lay  on  either  side  of  Shoal  Creek.  On 
the  prairie  were  great  numbers  of  prairie  chickens.  In 
the  timber  were  many  squirrels,  a  few  wild  turkeys 
and  in  the  early  fifties,  at  certain  times,  the  branches 
of  the  trees  would  bend  and  sometimes  even  break  under 
the  weight  of  thousands  of  wild  pigeons.  Babbits  and 
quail,  usually  called  "partridges",  could  be  found  in 
plenty,  both  in  the  prairie  and  timber. 

A  few  deer  were  left  and  there  was  an  occasional 
(76) 


Old  Billy  Reems  and  His  Hounds  77 

old  hunter  who  kept  deer  hounds.  One  of  these  hunt- 
ers I  shall  never  forget,  Old  Billy  Eeems,  as  he  was 
familiarly  called.  He  was  famous  for  the  great  amount 
of  larger  game  that  current  report  credited  him  with 
having  slain.  I  shall  never  forget  a  village  scene  in 
which  Old  Billy  was  the  central  figure.  The  scene  was 
staged  one  Saturday  afternoon  in  October,  when  a 
few  farmers,  on  one  errand  and  another,  had  come  in 
from  their  homes — this  one  for  his  mail,  that  one  for 
some  needed  supplies,  the  other  to  fulfill  an  engage- 
ment, and  all,  to  meet  and  greet  their  neighbors  and 
gather  the  latest  community  gossip.  Presently  the 
sound  of  a  horn  was  heard  and  all  ears  and  eyes  became 
intent.  In  a  little  while  Old  Billy  Reems  was  seen  ap- 
proaching on  one  of  the  timber  roads.  In  a  moment  he 
had  halted  in  front  of  the  village  store  where  most  of 
the  men  were  gathered.  In  front  of  him  and  across 
the  withers  of  his  horse  was  a  deer.  Across  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle  was  a  Kentucky  rifle,  its  butt  held  in  the 
hunter's  hand  while  in  his  other  was  the  bridle  rein. 
Under  his  left  elbow  suspended  by  a  leather  strap  was 
a  powderhorn  and  leather  bulletpouch.  Under  his  right 
elbow  was  an  ox-horn  whose  reverberations  put  new 
life  in  the  deer  hounds,  several  of  which  soon  gathered 
about  their  master.  They  were  all  yellow  in  color,  slen- 
der in  form  and  cadaverous  looking  in  appearance. 
Their  barking  was  deep  toned  and  characteristic,  so 
that  the  term  "baying  of  the  hounds"  has  come  to  be 
almost  classical. 

Dressed  in  his  "hunting  shirt",  his  trusty  rifle  and 
latest  conquest'  in  front  of  him,  his  accoutrements  in 
proper  place,  the  hounds  at  ease,  Old  Billy  Beems, 


78  Loading  the  Pioneer's  Gun 

proud  as  any  conqueror,  made  a  picture  for  the  pen  of 
a  Cooper. 

The  older  men  still  clung  to  the  Kentucky  squirrel 
rifle,  some  of  which  yet  had  flint  locks,  but  the  newer 
generation  nearly  all  had  shotguns,  most  of  which  were 
double-barreled.  The  stores  all  carried  in  stock  powder, 
shot  and  percussion  caps.  Cartridges  had  not  yet  come 
in  use,  and  in  loading  a  charge  of  powder  was  first 
poured  into  the  muzzle  of  the  gun.  On  the  powder  a 
piece  of  paper  was  pressed  down  firmly  by  the  butt  end 
of  the  ram-rod,  and  on  this  was  placed  a  charge  of 
shot,  held  in  place  by  a  piece  of  newspaper  pressed 
firmly  down  as  before.  Meantime,  a  few  grains  of  pow- 
der found  its  way  out  through  the  tube  where  it  came 
in  contact  with  the  contents  of  the  percussion  cap  and 
all  that  was  needed  to  discharge  the  gun,  was  the  sharp 
stroke  from  the  hammer  of  the  gunlock. 

Loading  a  rifle  was  not  so  easy  as  loading  a  shotgun 
for  the  reason  that  a  patch  had  to  be  put  round  the 
bullet.  To  make  the  patch  a  strong  piece  of  cotton 
cloth  was  "tallowed"  on  its  under  side  and  placed 
over  the  muzzle  and  upon  this  the  bullet  was  laid  and 
pressed  down  till  even  with  the  top  of  the  gun-barrel. 
Then  with  a  sharp  knife  the  cloth  was  cut  off,  the  bul- 
let thus  covered  was  pushed  to  the  bottom  of  the  gun- 
barrel  where  it  rested  on  the  charge  of  powder.  The 
powder  was  poured  into  the  palm  of  the  hand  and  the 
amount  needed  was  measured  by  the  eye.  However, 
for  this  purpose  there  came  in  vogue  later  a  measure 
made  of  brass  and  about  the  size  of  one's  little  finger. 

Sometimes  there  were  shooting-matches,  at  which 
prizes  of  some  kind  would  be  awarded  the  best  marks- 
men. And  occasionally  a  gun  contest  of  another  char- 


A  Hunting  Contest  79 

acter  would  occur:  All  those  in  the  neighborhood  de- 
siring a  day's  hunt  would  divide  into  two  equal  parties 
and  to  each  of  these  a  certain  specifically  denned  local- 
ity was  assigned  and  in  this  the  individuals  named  were 
to  hunt,  and  no  others.  When  night  came,  all  were  to 
report  with  the  day's  product  at  the  village  tavern. 
The  final  result  was  determined  by  a  simple  computa- 
tion in  addition.  Let  it  be  surmised  that  each  bird  or 
animal  represented  so  many  points — say  a  rabbit  5,  a 
squirrel  10,  a  quail  20,  a  prairie  chicken  50,  a  wild 
turkey  100,  a  deer  500,  and  so  on  through  the  list  of 
game.  Thus  it  can  easily  be  seen  that  the  side  footing 
up  the  largest  number  of  points  would  be  declared  the 
winner  and  would  have  to  foot  the  bill  for  a  dinner 
or  supper,  or  pay  some  other  forfeit. 

Football  and  baseball,  as  played  today,  were  unknown 
games.  What  was  known  as  townball,  however,  was  a 
popular  sport.  This  was  played  with  a  yarn  ball  cov- 
ered with  leather,  or  a  hollow,  inflated  rubber  ball,  both 
of  which  were  soft  and  yielding  and  not  likely  to  in- 
flict injury  as  is  so  common  today  in  baseball.  Town- 
ball  was  much  played  in  the  schoolhouse  yard  during 
recess  and  at  the  noon  hour. 

Sometimes  there  was  an  exhibition  by  a  traveling 
showman  who,  in  a  wagon  or  other  vehicle,  transported 
his  curios  and  other  attractions  and  appliances  from 
village  to  village.  I  recall  one  of  these  who  had  two 
mummies  which  he  advertised  as  an  Egyptian  King  and 
Queen.  So  common  as  are  electric  batteries  today  it 
seems  strange  to  recall  that  they  were  so  rare  two  gen- 
erations ago  that  showmen  took  them  around  and 
greatly  pleased  their  audiences  by  permitting  certain 
fortunate  ones  to  "take  shocks".  In  connection  with 


The  Sewing  Society 


this  exhibition  the  working  of  Morse's  electric  tele- 
graph, then  a  recent  invention,  was  explained.  I  re- 
member one  showman  with  long,  heavy  whiskers,  and 
as  almost  every  one  shaved  closely,  his  appearance  was 
unique  and  attracted  much  attention,  as  he  doubtless 
intended  it  should. 

A  source  of  no  little  social  pleasure  was  the  Ladies' 
Sewing  Society,  whose  members  met  on  certain  speci- 
fied afternoons  at  one  of  the  neighbors',  where  they 
would  get  busy  with  their  needles  and  tongues.  The 
sewing  machine  had  not  yet  come  in  use  and  conse- 
quently all  sewing  was  done  by  hand.  What  the  women 
of  the  local  organization  did  was  simple,  and  consisted 
for  the  most  part  in  making  underwear  and  men's 
working  clothes.  However,  they  marketed  their  prod- 
uct at  a  fair  profit  and  the  proceeds  were  devoted  to 
sundry  commendable  things.  Maybe  the  parsonage  was 
in  need  of  a  new  carpet  or  possibly  some  worthy,  strug- 
gling widow  was  in  need  of  a  cookstove.  About  the 
middle  of  the  fifties  the  organization  put  forth  unusual 
efforts  and  made  enough  to  purchase  a  small  circulating 
library,  a  great  need  in  the  community.  The  women 
would  sew  till  supper  time,  when  husbands,  brothers 
and  fathers  would  come  in  and  all  sat  down  to  an 
enjoyable  evening  meal.  After  supper  two  or  three 
hours  would  be  spent  in  social  intercourse.  Sometimes 
the  organization  would  conduct  a  sort  of  newspaper 
managed  by  the  Society's  secretary,  and  to  which  any 
one  was  at  liberty  to  contribute.  At  stated  times  the 
contributions  were  read  aloud,  and,  as  the  name  of  the 
writer  was  in  all  cases  withheld,  they  excited  no  little 
interest  and  curiosity. 

At  one  of  these  gatherings  at  the  home  of  a  promi- 


Some  Old-Time  Songs  81 

nent  citizen  the  guests  were  seated  one  evening  after 
supper,  when  all  at  once  the  host's  only  daughter  came 
in  on  the  arm  of  her  lover  and  took  a  position  in  front 
of  a  minister  who  was  present,  and  who  in  due  time 
pronounced  the  couple  man  and  wife.  To  the  great 
majority  of  those  assembled  all  this  was  as  "lightning 
from  a  clear  sky". 

Sometimes  all  would  join  in  singing  some  popular 
melody,  such  as  "Blue  Juniata",  "Last  Rose  of  Sum- 
mer", "The  Prairie  Flower",  "Nellie  Gray",  "Sweet 
Home",  and  "Lilly  Dale".  Not  a  few  of  these  songs 
were  sad.  I  recall  four  lines  of  "Lilly  Dale": 

"  'Twas  a  calm,  still  night,  and  the  moon's  pale  light 

Shone  soft  o'er  hill  apd  dale, 

When  friends  mute  with  grief  stood  around  the  death-bed 
Of  my  poor  lost  Lilly  Dale." 

I  recall  the  first  two  and  last  two  lines  of  "Blue  Ju- 
niata ' ' : 

"Wild  roved  an  Indian  girl,  bright  Elpharata, 

Where  sweep  the  waters  of  the  Blue  Juniata. 
******* 

Fleeting  years  have  born  away  the  voice  of  Elpharata ; 
Still  sweep  the  waters  of  the  Blue  Juniata." 

As  elsewhere  stated,  there  were  practically  no  pianos 
or  cottage  organs  in  those  days,  but  in  the  late  fifties 
there  was  a  young  man  who  sometimes  added  the  melo- 
dious tones  of  his  flute  to  the  music  made  by  the  voices 
of  the  singers. 

Right  or  wrong,  yet  the  fact  remains  that  very  many 
people  went  to  church  for  diversion  and  entertainment. 
This  was  markedly  true  during  protracted  meetings. 


82  A  "Jerusalem  Fiddle" 

On  certain  festive  occasions  the  blacksmith's  anvils 
were  loaded  with  powder  and  when  this  was  ignited  a 
tremendous  noise  resulted.  Sometimes  the  boys  would 
bore  holes  in  logs,  put  in  powder,  drive  in  a  peg  with  a 
groove  on  one  side,  then  fix  a  fuse  and  get  away  to  a 
safe  distance,  while  the  powder  ignited  and  burst  the 
log  open  with  an  almost  deafening  sound. 

At  other  times,  after  night  youngsters  would  get  tur- 
pentine, and  soak  in  this  balls  of  candle-wick,  set  these 
on  fire  and  throw  them  from  one  to  another.  Under 
such  circumstances  turpentine  burns  with  a  slow  flame 
that  does  not  injure  the  hand,  if  held  for  a  short  while 
only. 

In  the  early  fifties  charivaris  ("chivarees")  were  in 
vogue  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  the  night  all 
about  would  be  made  hideous  with  unearthly  noise  for 
thei  benefit  of  some  young  man  and  woman  who  had 
just  taken  a  solemn  vow  to  love  and  cherish  each  other. 
A  popular  noise  producer  at  a  charivari  was  the  "Je- 
rusalem Fiddle",  which  was  made  by  removing  the  top 
from  a  large  dry-goods  box  and  rubbing  rosin  plenti- 
fully on  the  up-standing  edges,  across  which  the  flat 
side  of  a  long  scantling,  also  well  rosined,  was  drawn  to 
and  fro.  The  noise  resulting  was  hideous  and  like 
nothing  else  outside  of  Bedlam. 

House  raisings,  barn  raisings  and  corn  huskings  all 
served  to  get  the  people  together ;  and  on  such  occasions 
there  were  nearly  always  bountiful  dinners.  One  of 
these  I  attended  when  a  boy./  The  table  was  spread 
under  the  trees  in  the  yard,  and  was  made  by  putting 
planks  on  trestles  and  covering  these  with  tablecloths, 
some  of  which  neighbors  supplied.  This  extemporized 
table  fairly  "groaned  beneath  the  load"  of  food  put 


A  Long  Menu  83 


upon  it.  Of  the  ample  supply  of  good  things  to  eat  at 
such  times  and  from  which  the  good  housewives  of  those 
days  drew  at  appropriate  seasons  to  spread  the  hos- 
pitable board  for  everybody,  my  boyhood  recollections 
contain  a  list  something  like  the  following :  Fresh  beef, 
fresh  pork,  venison,  prairie  chicken,  wild  turkey,  fried 
chicken,  fried  eggs,  broiled  ham,  Irish  potatoes,  sweet 
potatoes,  turnips,  snap  beans,  butter  beans,  onions,  cab- 
bage, roasting  ears,  egg  bread,  corn  bread,  wheat  bread, 
biscuits,  buckwheat  cakes,  fritters,  stewed  peaches, 
stewed  apples,  stewed  tomatoes,  stewed  pumpkin,  baked 
squash,  quince  preserves,  plum  preserves,  pear  preserves, 
apple  pie,  pumpkin  pie,  peach  cobbler,  cream  pudding, 
maple  syrup,  honey,  peaches,  sweet  cream,  doughnuts, 
poundcake,  sweet  milk,  buttermilk,  clabber,  sweet  cider, 
coffee  and  tea. 

One  of  the  never-to-be-forgotten  sights  of  the  fifties 
was  Donati's  comet,  which  in  the  late  summer  and  early 
autumn  of  1858  filled  nearly  the  whole  of  the  northwest 
heavens.  Much  was  written  about  the  comet  before  it 
made  its  appearance  and  very  naturally  much  was  said 
about  it  after  it  came.  Some  believed  it  meant  that  the 
end  of  the  world  was1  near  and  others  said  it  was  a 
sign  that  we  would  soon  have  a  bloody  war.  However, 
the  great  majority  accepted  the  comet  of  1858  as  one 
of  nature's  wonders  and  one  whose  like  they  would 
never  again  be  permitted  to  see.  Gray-haired  men  and 
women  of  today  still  talk  of  the  wonderful  comet  of 
their  childhood  that  came  about  the  time  of  the  great 
Lincoln-Douglas  debate. 

In  the  early  fifties  a  sort  of  epidemic  of  "  spirit- 
rappings",  " table-turnings"  or  "table-rappings",  as 
it  was  severally  called,  swept  over  Illinois.  Spirit-rap- 


84  Spirit-Rappings 


pings  started  in  and  near  Rochester,  New  York,  and 
from  there  extended  over  the  entire  land.  When  I  was 
a  small  boy  I  was  present  on  two  or  three  occasions 
when  older  people  would  gather  about  a  bare  table,  and 
after  seating  themselves  all  would  lay  their  extended 
hands  upon  it.  Then  some  one  would  gravely  ask  ques- 
tion after  question  which  it  was  proposed  the  spirits 
should  answer  with  a  specified  number  of  raps  or 
knocks. 

But  the  spirits  invariably  refused  to  answer  any  of 
the  questions  propounded,  and  not  a  rap  or  knock  of 
any  kind  was  heard.  But  notwithstanding  this  lack  of 
spirit  manifestation,  for  several  years  during  the  fifties 
certain  people  persisted  in  holding  these  meetings,  usu- 
ally at  private  houses. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  VILLAGE  LYCEUM  AND  SOME  LOCAL  PETTIFOGGERS. 

i 

Leave  these  keen  encounter  of  our  wits, 
And  fall  somewhat  into  a  slower  method. 

— Shakespeare. 

Your  pettifoggers  dam  their  souls, 
To  share  with  knaves  in  cheating  fools. 

—Butler. 
Even  though  vanquished  he  could  argue  still. 

— Goldsmith. 

One  of  the  institutions  of  the  village  was  its  Lyceum, 
the  sessions  of  which  occurred  once  a  week,  during  cool 
weather,  in  the  schoolhouse.  Here  heat  was  furnished 
from  two  wood-stoves  and  light  from  candles  which 
were  made  to  stand  alone  by  putting  the  free  end  in 
melted  tallow  dropped  from  the*  burning  end  on  the  desk 
and  allowed  to  harden. 

Every  man  of  good  character  was  eligible  to  mem- 
bership and  many  of  the  villagers  enrolled  their  names. 
The  officers  consisted  of  a  president,  vice-president,  sec- 
retary and  treasurer.  Following  were  some  of  the  top- 
ics discussed,  or  rather  subjects  debated:  "Resolved, 
that  African  slavery  should  be  abolished  in  the  United 
States".  "Resolved,  that  polygamy  is  a  greater  evil 
than  African  slavery".  "Resolved,  that  the  sale  of 
alcoholic  beverages  should  be  prohibited".  "Resolved, 
that  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  is  a  menace 
to  the  perpetuity  of  the  national  union".  "Resolved, 
that  there  is  more  satisfaction  in  pursuit  than  in  pos- 

(85) 


86  Types  of  Debaters 


session".  "Resolved,  that  the  discovery  of  California 
gold  has  proved  more  of  a  curse  than  a  blessing  to  this 
country".  "Resolved,  that  the  right  of  suffrage  should 
be  granted  to  women". 

Some  member  would  move  that  a  certain  subject  be 
the  one  named  for  discussion  at  the  next  meeting,  and 
upon  the  adoption  of  this  motion,  two  polemics  were 
appointed  whose  duty  it  was  to  select  their  assistants, 
and  lead  in  the  discussion.  All  the  members  would  be 
chosen  on  one  or  the  other  side.  However,  no  one  was 
permitted  to  speak  longer  than  ten  minutes;  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  few  speakers  used  up  the  time  allowed, 
for,  save  the  Methodist  preacher  and  three  or  four  pet- 
tifoggers, all  were  amateurs.  When  the  evening  came 
for  the  debate  the  polemics  made  the  opening  talks  and 
were  followed  in  turn  by  other  speakers.  Strict  par- 
liamentary rules  Avere  sought  to  be  enforced. 

These  debates  were  always  well  attended,  as  it  was 
interesting  to  see  and  hear  the  speakers.  A  certain 
wordy  village  pettifogger,  not  infrequently  manifested 
a  disposition  to  be  arrogant  and  overbearing.  The 
preacher,  considerate  and  deferential,  expressed  his 
thoughts  in  well-chosen  words  and  had  the  happy  fac- 
ulty of  knowing  when  he  was  through.  The  principal 
•of  the  village  school,  poetical  in  temperament  and  gifted 
in  speech,  nearly  always  spoke  with  great  earnestness, 
•especially  if  the  subject  under  debate  gave  him  oppor- 
tunity to  picture  the  horrors  of  slavery  or  the  evils  of 
the  liquor  traffic — two  questions  near  his  heart.  The 
chief  citizen  of  the  village,  a  little  pompous  in  bearing, 
always  spoke  in  measured  terms,  seemingly  impressed 
with  the  thought  that  his  words  carried  unusual  weight 
and  authority.  The  village  wit,  with  a  grave,  imper- 


Abolitionists  and  Prohibitionists  87 

turbable  countenance,  labored  under  the  handicap  of 
having  his  most  serious,  carefully-worded  thoughts  in- 
terpreted as  funny.  The  modest,  timid  youth,  who  was 
about  to  make  his  maiden  speech,  won  the  general  sym- 
pathy when  he  arose  and  in  a  trembling  voice  said  a 
few  words,  blushed,  forgot  most  of  what  he  had  in  mind, 
blushed  a  deeper  red  than  ever,  and  sat  down.  There 
was  also  the  man  who  was  never  disturbed,  because  he 
had  more  brass  than  brains,  and  who,  with  the  utmost 
composure,  would  expose  his  ignorance  by  making  blun- 
der after  blunder,  and  in  the  end,  sacrifice  everything 
but  his  equipoise.  These  Lyceum  debates  revealed  the 
fact  that  there  were  full-fledged  abolitionists  resident  in 
the  village,  and  this  at  a  time  when  the  mere  word  was 
deemed  a  reproach,  so  great  was  the  influence  of  the 
upholders  of  African  slavery,  even  in  the  free  state  of 
Illinois,  Furthermore,  they  showed  that  in  the  com- 
munity were  total  abstainers  who,  if  they  could  have 
had  their  way,  would  have  poured  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean 
all  the  intoxicating  beverages  in  existence. 

One  of  the  chief  village  functionaries  was  the  squire, 
or  justice  of  the  peace,  and  his  office  was  not  infre- 
quently the  arena  where  the  neighborhood  pettifoggers 
fought  their  wordy  battles.  One  of  the  last  named  was 
a  very  large,  corpulent,  round-faced  man  of  few  words, 
spoken  in  a  heavy  voice,  who  always  seemed  to  think 
that  his  avoirdupois  and  solemnity  would  and  should 
carry  verdicts  his  way.  That  he  was  frequently  disap- 
pointed, goes  without  saying. 

The  heavyweight  had  his  antipode  in  another  local 
pettifogger,  a  tall,  lean,  raw-boned  man,  with  long  legs 
and  arms,  a  hooked  nose,  and  angular  features.  He 


88  Some  Village  Pettifoggers 

was  fluent  in  speech,  vehement  in  manner  and  his  words 
were  not  infrequently  acrid  and  bitter. 

A  third  pettifogger,  who  sometimes  appeared  in  the 
justice's  court,  seemed  in  his  youth  to  have  been  im- 
pressed with  the  idea  that  long  hair  was  an  unfailing 
mark  of  genius  and  consequently  he  allowed  his  un- 
certain-hued,  tangled  locks  to  grow  till  they  nearly 
reached  his  shoulders,  and  this  when  short-cropped  hair 
was  the  fashion.  This  man  was  anything  but  fluent. 
His  words  seemed  to  come  with  much  labor  and,  as  if 
to  make  up  for  this,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  violently 
"shaking  his  mane"  when  speaking. 

Another  specimen  of  the  neighborhood  pettifogger 
class  was  absolutely  unique.  He  was  by  far  the  home- 
liest man  I  ever  saw.  Indeed,  he  was  more  than  homely ; 
he  was  repulsively  ugly.  His  eyes  were  very  large  and 
seemed  to  be  half  out  of  their  sockets.  His  nose  was 
abnormally  small  and  his  lower  jaw  protruded  far  be- 
yond its  fellow.  The  skin  on  his  face  was  rough  and 
mottled.  In  a  word  his  countenance  was  hideous.  His 
protruding  eyeballs  secured  for  him  the  nickname 
"Pop-Eye".  It  was  said  this  man  could  not  read  a 
word,  yet  he  was  well  informed,  and  in  native  wisdom 
and  homely  wit  was  almost  a  modern  Esop. 

I  shall  never  forget  one  case  in  which  this  man  figured. 
One  of  the  village  merchants  found  it  necessary  to  sue 
for  an  unpaid  bill  a  patron  who  was  a  relative  of  this 
unattractive  pettifogger  and  who,  very  naturally,  em- 
ployed his  kinsman  in  the  defense.  Associated  with  him 
was  the  lean,  fluent  pettifogger  above  described.  The 
prosecution  was  put  in  the  hands  of  a  young  man  in 
the  village,  who  had  just  completed  his  law  studies, 
and  who  had  to  assist  him  an  old,  experienced  lawyer 


"A  Pair  of  Jims"  89 

from  the  county  seat.  It  so  happened  that  the  first 
name  of  both  the  pettifoggers  was  James,  familiarly 
abbreviated  to  "Jim".  A  number  of  times  during  the 
trial,  the  old  lawyer  facetiously  referred  to  the  oppos- 
ing counsel  as  a  "pair  of  Jims" — and  a  "pair"  they 
certainly  were !  But  for  this  bit  of  sarcastic  pleasantry 
at  their  expense,  the  pair  were  destined  to  get  more 
than  even.  The  merchant's  claim  was  just,  the  whole 
course  pursued  by  the  defendant  was  reprehensible  and 
his  daughter  on  the  witness  stand  undoubtedly  perjured 
herself,  though  this  may  have  been  unwittingly.  Yet  it 
soon  became  apparent  that  the  tide  was  against  the 
prosecution,  who,  in  a  fit  of  desperation,  put  the  young 
attorney  (the  chief  prosecutor)  on  the  witness  stand 
where  he  testified  that  the  young  woman  had  sworn  to 
a  lie.  As  might  have  been  predicted,  this  turned  out  to 
be  a  boomerang  for  the  prosecution,  and  when  one  of 
the  "pair  of  Jims",  he  of  the  big  eyes  and  repulsive 
features,  got  up  to  speak,  he  literally  impaled  the  young 
attorney ;  and  in  the  course  of  his  eloquent  appeal  said 
that  history  had  repeated  itself,  that  in  his  zeal  Abra- 
ham (the  old,  experienced  attorney)  had  offered  up  the 
young  man  (the  youthful  attorney).  This  application 
of  a  well-known  scriptural  incident  was  so  apt  and  in 
point,  that  the  jury  found  for  the  defendant,  very  much 
to  the  regret  and  disappointment  of  the  merchant.  That 
the  old  lawyer  was  chagrined  and  the  young  one  deeply 
mortified  hardly  needs  to  be  stated. 


CHAPTER   IX. 
AN  OLD-TIME  WATER  MILL. 

I  hear  the  clatter  that  jars  its  walls, 

And  the  rushing  water's  sound, 
And  I  see  the  black  floats  rise  and  fall 

As  the  wheel  goes  slowly  round. 

— Thomas  Dunn  English. 

In  my  boyhood  days  I  was  never  happier  than  when 
seated  astride  a  horse  with  a  sack  of  wheat  or  shelled 
corn  under  me  and  the  bridle  rein  in  hand,  I  started 
on  the  road  that  led  to  the  watermill  on  Shoal  Creek, 
two  miles  distant  from  the  village.  This  mill  was 
owned  by  a  man  named  Seaver  and  was  of  a  type  very 
common  two  generations  ago — a  gristmill  and  a  saw- 
mill under  the  same  roof.  Let  us  in  imagination  pay 
this  old  mill  a  visit,  say  on  a  June  morning  when  all 
nature  is  alive  and  in  the  prime  of  its  beauty. 

The  building  is  a  crude  structure  with  the  main  floor 
on  a  level  with  the  bank  of  the  creek,  having  in  one  end 
an  up-and-down  saw  which  is  slowly  eating  its  way 
through  a  log  in  an  endeavor  to  transform  it  into  lum- 
ber, and  in  the  other  end  a  pair  of  stones  is  with  equal 
deliberation  transforming  shelled  corn  into  meal.  A  dam 
across  the  creek  makes  a  sufficient  head  of  water  to  turn 
the  wheels;  one  an  undershot,  horizontal  wheel,  with  a 
crank  on  one  end  of  its  axle,  communicates  an  up-and- 
down  motion  to  the  saw;  the  other,  a  rude  prototype  of 
the  turbine,  is  at  the  lower  end  of  an  upright  shaft  and 
at  the  bottom  of  a  deep,  barrel-like  frame  of  strong 
(90) 


Brown's  Mill  on  Shoal  Creek,  Bond  County.     Patronized  by  the  author 
in  his  youth.     (Courtesy  Dr.  D.  R.  Wilkins) 


Rude  But  Not  liwfticient  91 

boards,  into  which  the  water  is  admitted  to  set  in  mo- 
tion the  wheel  whose  axle  extends  to  the  main  story 
and  causes  the  upper  millstone  to  revolve  and  crush  the 
grain  between  it  and  the  lower  stone,  which  remains 
stationary. 

The  machinery  about  the  mill  is  crude  and  substan- 
tially all  of  wood,  mainly  ash,  oak  and  hickory.  There 
are  wooden  axles,  wooden  cogs,  wooden  pinions,  wooden 
shafts,  wooden  levers;  a  wooden  frame  for  the  saw,  and 
a  wooden  carriage  to  move  the  log  against  the  teeth  of 
the  saw,  during  its  up-and-down  motion.  Lard  is  the 
lubricant  used  to  prevent  friction  between  the  parts  in 
motion.  But  despite  the  efforts  at  lubrication  a  great 
deal  of  friction  occurred.  And,  as  though  the  parts 
involved  experienced  great  pain,  there  was  no  end  of 
ear-splitting  complaint — creaking  of  a  kind  that  resem- 
bled groans,  sighs  and  cries  of  anguish.  Throughout 
the  whole  of  its  structure  the  old  mill  shook  and  trem- 
bled like  a  man  afflicted  with  palsy. 

Yonder  is  slowly  coming  a  great  log  behind  a  heavy, 
strong  cart  drawn  by  several  yokes  of  panting  oxen. 
The  wheels  of  the  cart  are  ten  feet  high  and  its  felloes, 
spokes,  hubs  and  axle  strong  and  durable  in  proportion. 
Heavy  log  chains  and  a  screw  and  lever  attachment 
afford  mechanical  means  for  lifting  up  one  end  of  the 
log  and  securing  it  under  the  strong  axle,  while  the 
other  drags  on  the  ground. 

Turning  from  the  means  and  appliances  used  for  mov- 
ing sawlogs,  a  farmer  is  seen  approaching  and  in  his 
wagon  are  sundry  sacks  of  wheat  and  shelled  corn.  The 
sacks  and  their  contents  are  put  in  charge  of  the  miller, 
the  oxen  unhitched  from  the  wagon  and  allowed  to 
browse,  while  the  farmer,  who  seems  to  have  some  of  the 


92  Going  to  MUL 


tastes  of  Izaak  Walton,  decides  to  try  his  luck  fishing 
for  perch  and  sunfish  in  the  swift-running  millrace.  A 
stout  young  hickory,  growing  on  the  banks  of  the  creek, 
makes  a  convenient  fishing  pole ;  and  a  spade  borrowed 
from  the  miller  turns  up  the  earth,  made  rich  by  rotting 
sawdust,  and  reveals  the  needed  supply  of  fish-worms 
for  bait. 

Next  comes  a  bare-headed,  freckled-faced,  ten-year- 
old  boy,  astride  a  sack  of  corn  on  an  old,  sway-backed 
horse,  as  slow  and  patient  as  long  service  and  a  natu- 
rally good  disposition  can  make  a  faithful  domestic  ani- 
mal. The  boy  is  green  and  diffident  and  the  miller  is 
gruff  and  harsh  of  speech.  But  coming  to  mill  is  one 
of  the  boy's  few  opportunities  for  getting  away  from 
the  tedium  of  the  farm,  so  he  gladly  faces  the  stern 
countenance  and  severe  manner  of  the  miller  for  the 
privilege  of  "going  to  mill".  Henry  Clay  in  his  boy- 
hood, it  is  said,  went  to  mill  in  the  same  way  and  so 
frequently  that  he  came  to  be  known  as  ' '  the  mill  boy  of 
the  slashes".  While  waiting  for  his  grist  the  boy's 
time  was  his  own,  and  with  the  old  roan  securely  tied, 
he  could  do  what  he  wished.  The  rude  machinery  he 
enjoyed  seeing.  The  mechanism  by  which  circular  mo- 
tion became  converted  into  horizontal  or  perpendicular 
motion,  and  vice  versa,  were  unfailing  sources  of  inter- 
est. Just  above  the  mill  was  the  millpond,  with  its 
deep  water  that  served  all  the  men  and  boys  who  were 
expert  swimmers  as  a  place  to  bathe  and  swim.  Down 
the  creek  below  the  mill  was  shallow  water  for  those 
who  were  not  swimmers.  At  one  edge  of  the  millpond 
and  fastened  by  a  chain  to  an  exposed  root  was  a  canoe 
made  from  a  great  elm  log.  Overhanging  the  opposite 
bank  were  young  willows,  with  their  drooping  branches 


The  "Suck-Hole"  93 


dipping  their  fresh  young  leaves  in  the  water.  A  little 
back  from  the  water's  edge  was  the  great  white  trunk 
of  a  sycamore,  that  above  spread  out  its  branches  upon 
which  were  immense  broad  leaves.  The  lower  portion 
of  the  trunk  was  hollow  and,  beginning  at  the  ground 
at  one  side  of  the  tree,  was  an  opening  that  a  man  could 
walk  into.  Below  the  mill  was  the  bridge  across  which 
the  main  stage  road  led  eastward  from  the  village.  This 
bridge  was  made  wholly  of  wood,  for  as  yet  iron  and 
stone  were  not  used  in  this  new  locality  in  the  building 
of  such  structures.  Farther  down  the  creek  was  the 
mysterious  "suck-hole",  wherein  three  men  and  two 
boys  had  been  drowned,  all  of  whom  were  good  swim- 
mers. And  near  this  spot  of  evil  repute  the  creek  made 
a  sudden  turn  and,  after  flowing  at  a  right  angle  to  its 
former  course  for  a  time,  doubled  back,  and  having 
reached  the  line  of  its  former  channel,  again  flowed 
south.  The  loop  thus  formed  was  known  as  "Horseshoe 
Bend",  and  among  the  early  settlers  was  a  well-known 
landmark. 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  bend  was  a  great  drift  run- 
ning out  into  the  stream,  and  made  up  of  debris  of  all 
kinds — logs,  brush,  fence  rails,  pieces  of  boards,  corn- 
stalks, bunches  of  loose  straw,  and  in  fact  nearly  every 
object  that  sometime  before  had  floated  down  in  the 
freshet,  all  lodged  against  a  great,  uprooted  tree  that 
had  been  caught  and  anchored  by  some  obstruction  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream.  A  most  fit  harbor  was  this 
drift  for  certain  forms  of  reptilian  life.  Watersnakes 
found  a  congenial  home  in  its  interspaces.  Snapping 
turtles  crawled  up  on  the  logs,  sunned  themselves,  and 
at  the  approach  of  supposed  danger,  suddenly  dived 
into  the  water  with  a  noisy  plunk.  From  the  intrica- 


Had  Nine  Lives 


cies  of  the  drift,  great  bull  frogs  made  the  bottom  re- 
sound with  their  deep  bass. 

But  the  miller  has  had  time  to  grind  the  farmer- 
fisherman's  grain  and  that  of  the  bare-footed  boy  of 
promise,  as  well.  Both  man  and  boy  come  up  the  bank 
to  the  mill  with  a  string  of  fish  in  their  hands.  Each 
of  these  is  impaled  on  a  stick  that  after  passing  under 
the  gills  of  the  fish  is  run  out  at  its  mouth.  Fortu- 
nately, save  one,  the  fish  are  all  lifeless.  The  exception 
is  a  channel  cat  which,  like  its  namesake,  had  nine  lives 
and  notwithstanding  its  tortures,  flounced  its  tail  vig- 
orously in  earnest  protest.  The  man's  grist  was  ready 
and  the  miller,  having  taken  out  his  toll,  put  the  re- 
mainder in  the  wagon  behind  the  oxen.  Strange  to  say, 
three  times  as  many  sacks  were  needed  for  the  products 
of  the  wheat  as  were  required  to  bring  that  cereal  to 
the  mill.  The  increase  was  not  in  quantity,  but  quality. 
Where  there  had  been  only  wheat,  there  now  was  flour, 
bran,  and  shorts.  The  timid  boy's  grist  was  ready  too,, 
though  little  cared  he  had  the  whole  day  been  taken  in 
grinding  his  one  sack  of  corn ;  for  the  old  mill  and  all 
about  it  were  of  perennial  interest  to  him.  It  is  now 
not  far  from  midday  and  the  sun  is  warm,  indeed,  al- 
most hot.  In  the  back  yard  of  the  house  in  which  the 
miller  lives  is  a  famous  well  at  which  for  many  years 
the  thirst  of  man  and  beast  had  been  quenched.  It  is 
within  the  yard  fence  and  just  off  the  main  traveled 
road  from  whence  it  is  in  plain  sight  and  upon  which 
a  stranger  is  seen  approaching  on  horseback.  The  well 
was  walled  up  with  rock  taken  from  a  nearby  hill-side, 
and  over  its  top  was  a  curb  of  rough,  warped  boards. 
Projecting  from  one  side  of  the  curb  is  the  crank  which 
turns  the  windlass,  about  which  wound  the  rope  and 


The  "Old-Oaken  Bucket"  95 

chain  attached  to  the  well  bucket.  To  empty  any  water 
that  might  be  in  the  bucket  is  the  work  of  a  moment. 
Then  dropping  it  over  the  well  and  pressing  your  hand 
on  the  windlass,  as  a  sort  of  brake,  you  let  the  rope 
unwind  and  soon  the  bucket  reaches  the  water  at  the 
bottom. 

A  few  turns  of  the  crank  and  the  bucket  is  at  the 
surface,  where  it  is  lifted  to  the  edge  of  the  curb  and 
balanced  while  man,  boy  and  stranger  put  their  lips  to 
its  margin  and  slake  their  thirst;  and  to  each  and  all 
of  these  this  seems  like  the  nectar  of  the  gods.  Man, 
boy  and  stranger  are  hot  and  thirsty  and  are  alike  in 
blissful  ignorance  of  disease  germs  and  parasites.  Mean- 
while, oxen,  horse  and  sway-backed  roan  have  satisfied 
their  thirst  at  the  trough,  and  with  driver  and  riders 
in  their  places  and  started  on  the  road  to  the  village, 
they  soon  reach  the  foot  of  the  hill  that  led  up  the  side 
of  Shoal  Creek  bluff.  The  hill  was  long,  steep  and  far 
and  wide  was  known  as  Hackberry  Hill,  taking  its  name 
from  a  large  tree  of  that  name  that  for  long  stood 
about  half  way  up  its  ascent.  This  tree  finally  went 
down  in  a  wind  storm  and  all  that  now  remained  of  it 
was  its  ragged  stump. 

What  a  history  Hackberry  Hill  could  have  revealed 
had  it  only  been  gifted  with  the  power  of  speech !  How 
many  teamsters  had  stopped  at  its  brow  to  "lock"  the 
wagon  by  securing  one  wheel  with  the  lock-chain !  How 
many  drivers  had  stopped  at  its  foot  to  give  their  teams 
a  rest,  before  attempting  to  climb  its  steep  sides !  After 
heavy  rains,  how  great  the  number  of  wheels  that  had 
mired  down  in  its  soft,  red  clay!  How  many  people 
in  vehicles  had  shuddered  at  starting  down  its  steep 
declivity !  More  than  one  harness  had  given  way,  more 


96  The  Pioneer 


than  one  neckyoke  had  broken,  more  than  one  life  had 
gone  out  in  attempting  the  drive  down  Hackberry  Hill. 
Upon  its  brow,  at  the  roadside,  was  a  mound  upon  which 
sturdy  young  hickories  were  growing,  and  beneath 
which  a  number  of  Indian  braves  were  buried.  Driving 
or  riding  past  this  mound  at  night  more  than  one  youth- 
ful traveler  had  felt  a  strange,  indescribable  feeling 
under  his  hat,  akin  to  one's  hair  rising  on  end.  Tor- 
tured with  less  gruesome  feelings  the  more  mature 
passer-by  had  his  thoughts  revert  to  the  pioneers,  when 

"Around  their  huts  the  wily  Indian  crept, 

His  shaft  as  sudden  as  the  serpent's  sting, 
And  many  a  weary  mother,  as  she  slept, 

Was   startled  by  the  war-whoop's  dismal   ring, 
The  hiss  of  arrow  and  the  twang  of  string, 

Or  the  fierce  tumult  of  the  savage  horde, 
Beneath  the  wood  in  their  wild  jargoning; 

And  many  a  cabin  by  the  torch  was  lowered, 
And  many  a  father's  blood  around  his  altar  poured. 

"Death  came  in  many  forms, — the  vengeful  snake 

Unloosed  its  venom  with  unerring  aim, 
The  burly  blackbear  loitered  in  the  brake, 

And  nightly  to  the  hill  the  panther  came, 
And  stealthily  outstretched  its  agile  frame, 

To  watch  and  seize  the  unresisting  prey; 
Aye,  there  were  perils  more  than  tongue  can  name, 

That  compassed  these  old  foresters, — yet  they 
With  souls  of  flint,  toiled  on,  thro'  all  that  twilight  gray." 


CHAPTER   X. 

SCHOOLS,  SCHOLAES  AND  TEACHERS. 

Beside  yon  struggling  fence  that  skirts  the  way, 

With  blossom'd  furze  unprofitable  way, 
There  in  his  noisy  mansion  skilled  to  rule, 

The  village  master  taught  his  little  school 

— Goldsmith. 

Said  the  master  to  the  youth, 
We  have  come-  in  search  of  truth. 

—Whittier. 
Seraphs  share  with  thee  knowledge.  .  .  . 

— Schiller. 

My  first  recollection  is  of  a  prairie  home  and  a  two- 
story,  unpainted  frame  house  where  I  first  saw  the  light 
of  day.  Hard  by  was  the  cabin  where  my  older  broth- 
ers and  sisters  were  born,  and  to  the  west  was  the  al- 
most boundless  extent  of  Looking  Glass  prairie,  a  ver- 
itable wilderness  of  blue-stem  (prairie  grass). 

In  the  fall  of  1848,  my  father  and  his  neighbors  real- 
izing that  their  children  were  in  need  of  educational 
advantages,  and,  no  schoolhouse  being  near,  decided  to 
improvise  one.  Following  out  this  idea  they  concluded 
to  utilize  the  old  cabin  that  stood  in  my  father's  or- 
chard. Accordingly  the  neighbors  got  busy  and  a  log 
schoolhouse  was  the  result. 

At  the  middle  of  one  side  was  a  door  that  swung  on 
wooden  hinges,  fastened  with  a  wooden  latch  and  had 
the  proverbial  latch-string  hanging  on  the  outside.  A 
very  large  chimney,  made  of  sticks  and  clay,  occupied 

(97) 


98  A  Make-Shift  School  House 

the  greater  part  of  one  end  of  the  structure,  and  a  log 
cut  out  of  the  other  end  and  a  row  of  window  panes 
set  edge  to  edge  in  the  opening,  made  a  long  window 
opposite  the  fireplace.  Thus  was  this  log  schoolhouse 
given  the  three  essentials  of  heat,  light  and  ingress  and 
egress. 

But  how  about  seats  and  desks?  This  need  the  rude 
workman  promptly  supplied.  Immediately  under  the 
window  large  auger  holes  were  bored,  in  these  strong 
oak  pegs  were  driven  and  on  them  was  placed  a  long, 
wide,  unplaned  board.  In  the  rounded  sides  of  slabs 
other  large  auger  holes,  were  bored  and  other  strong 
pegs  driven  which  served  for  legs  when  the  slabs,  now 
transformed  into  seats,  were  turned  with  their  flattened 
surfaces  uppermost.  Several  of  these  slab  seats  were 
placed  along  the  walls  and  others  in  the  center  of  the 
room.  The  "master"  (teacher)  occupied  a  split-bot- 
tom chair  and  in  front  of  him  was  a  candle-stand.  This 
teacher  was  an  Irishman  who  bore  the  famous  name 
O 'Conner,  and  like  Goldsmith,  his  gifted  countryman, 
he  played  the  flute.  This  was  the  first  instrumental 
music  I  ever  heard,  and  no  orchestra  that  I  have  since 
listened  to  has  charmed  my  ears  as  did  the  simple  tones 
of  O 'Conner's  flute. 

O 'Conner  was  a  lame  man  who  walked  with  a  crutch 
under  one  arm  and  a  cane  in  his  free  hand.  •  From  some 
cause  the  growth  of  one  leg  and  foot  had  been  arrested 
in  childhood  and  the  affected  member  was  only  about 
half  the  size  and  length  of  the  other.  His  little  foot 
and  short  leg  dangling  at  the  side  of  the  other  when 
he  walked,  was  always  a  curious  sight  to  my  eyes. 

Of  long  winter  evenings,  when  all  would  be  seated 
before  a  huge  wood  fire,  my  mother  sewing  or  knitting, 


Pioneer   Log  School  House. 

bs,  Urbana,  111.) 


Slab-Seat   with   Diagram  for   Playing   Game  of   Fox 
and  Geese.     ( Courtesy 4MtSf."Cf.'^f ."ttSfls,  Urbana,  111.) 


Pioneer  Hospitality  99 

my  father  with  book  in  hand  making  himself  comfort- 
able after  a  day  out  in  the  cold  winter  weather,  my 
sisters  engaged  with  their  lessons,  the  cat  contentedly 
purring  on  the  hearth,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the 
teacher  in  "done-up"  white  shirt  and  "store-clothes", 
had  the  place  of  honor,  his  crutch  beside  him  and  his 
short  leg  hanging  from  the  chair,  and  a  little  time  be- 
fore all  went  to  bed,  maybe,  would  begin  playing  some 
old  melody  on  his  flute,  then  and  there  I  realized  that 
Paradise  had  come  to  me. 

In  its  way  the  lame  Irishman's  school  was  popular 
and  pupils  came  to  it  from  far  and  near,  some  of  them 
young  men  six  feet  tall.  Those  of  the  latter  who  lived 
at  a  distance  were  occasionally  weatherbound,  and  in 
such  emergencies  would  seek  and  find  shelter  under  my 
father's  always  hospitable  roof.  Think  of  it!  Only 
two  rooms  in  which  father,  mother  and  five  children, 
ranging  from  a  babe  in  arms  to  a  girl  just  budding 
into  womanhood,  and  yet  room  was  found  for  the 
teacher  who  boarded  with  us !  Then,  when  a  hard  storm 
came  unexpectedly,  room  was  somehow,  somewhere, 
found  for  one,  perhaps  two  and  possibly  three  addi- 
tional human  beings  in  those  already  overcrowded  two 
rooms,  situated  away  out  on  the  wind-swept,  storm- 
visited  prairie. 

0 'Conner's  was  the  first  school  I  attended,  and  the 
first  day  a  new,  blue-backed  "Webster's  Spelling  Book 
was  placed  in  my  hands  and  opened  at  the  page  where 
were  several  perpendicular  rows  of  the  twenty-six  let- 
ters of  the  alphabet.  To  prevent  soiling  the  book  a 
thumb-paper  was  given  me.  This  was  a  piece  of  square 
paper,  folded  on  itself  several  times  and  inserted  be- 
tween my  thumb  and  the  page.  The  first  thing  a  child 


100  Foolscap  and  Goosequills 

was  taught  was  its  letters  and  I  remember  with  what 
trepidation  I  walked  up  to  the  teacher  and  stood  before 
him,  while  with  pencil  or  pen-knife  he  pointed  out  and 
named  the  various  letters  of  the  alphabet. 

In  due  time  the  winter  of  1848-9  came  to  an  end,  as 
likewise  did  O 'Conner's  term  of  school.  In  the  early 
spring  we  moved  to  the  near-by1  village  from  whence 
a  little  later  my  father  started  on  his  long  journey  to 
California.  Here  another  log  building,  the  discarded 
residence  of  one  of,  my  uncles,  was  the  schoolhouse 
where  I  went  to  school  the  following  summer  and  win- 
ter. The  lady  teacher  of  the  summer  school  is  yet  alive 
and  a  ripe  octogenarian.  My  teacher  in  the  winter 
term,  a  young  lawyer,  died  last  year  lacking  but  little 
of  becoming  a  centenarian. 

One  of  the  hardest  things  for  children  of  my  genera- 
tion to  master,  was  penmanship.  Steel  pens  had  not 
yet  been  introduced  into  general  use  and  one  of  the 
duties  of  the  teacher  was,  with  his  pen-knife,  to  fashion 
pens  for  his  pupils  from  goosequills.  Every  pupil  was 
expected  to  bring  goosequills  from  his  home,  as  nearly 
everyone  kept  geese  from  whose  wings  quills  could  be 
plucked  at  any  time.  No  little  of  the  ink  in  use  in  that 
day  was  made  by  dissolving  copperas  in  water  in  which 
oak  bark  had  been  soaked.  The  tannin  in  the  bark  com- 
bining with  the  sulphate  of  iron  (copperas)  produced 
a  beautiful  black  ink.  At  the  village  store  foolscap 
paper  could  always  be  purchased.  This  was  in  size 
about  eight  inches  by  fourteen,  was  ruled  and  generally 
of  a  blue  tinge.  Upon  the  first  line  of  one  of  these 
sheets  the  teacher  would  write  a  "copy"  for  the  pupil 
to  imitate. 

The  schools  of  that  era  were  what  were  known  as 


The  First  "Free"  Schools  101 

subscription  schools,  and  each  parent  or  patron  paid 
for  what  schooling  was  furnished.  When  a  school  was 
contemplated  the  community  was  canvassed  with  a  view 
to  getting  as  many  "scholars"  as  possible.  A  "scholar", 
in  the  sense  used,  was  a  certain  specified  number  of 
days  which  the  teacher  agreed  to  teach  one  pupil  for 
a  stated  price.  Sometimes  a  man  with,  say  four  chil- 
dren, would  subscribe  two  scholars  and  divide  the  time 
among  all  four,  some  assisting  at  home  while  the  others 
were  in  school,  thus  alternating  study  and  work. 

The  subscription  school  had  one  drawback — the  very 
poor  man  could  not  pay  the  price  and  consequently  his 
children  suffered  the  consequences.  However,  after  a 
time  the  subscription  school  was  succeeded  by  what  was 
popularly  known  as  the  free  school.  This  in  Illinois 
occurred  in  1855  when  an  act  was  placed  on  the  statute 
book  providing  that  all  school  expenses  should  be  raised 
by  general  taxation.  Since  that  date  no  child  in  Illi- 
nois has  remained  from  school  because  his  parents  were 
unable  to  pay  tuition.  When  this  law  was  first  enacted 
its  enthusiastic  sponsors  seemed  to  think  the  millen- 
nium would  come  after  it  had  been  in  operation  for  a 
time.  It  was  believed  that  ignorance,  poverty  and  crime 
would  be  banished  from  the  State.  That  it  has  had 
very  much  to  do  in  making  education  more  general,  no 
one  can  question.  That  there  is  less  poverty  than  there 
would  otherwise  have  been,  is  perhaps  true.  As  to  its 
effect  in  reducing  crime,  that  is  questionable.  At  all 
events,  it  without  doubt  enabled  many  deserving  boys 
and  girls  to  get  an  education  and  occupy  a  higher  plane 
in  life. 

Some  years  before!  the  enactment  of  the  free-school 
law  some  of  the  leading  citizens  became  ambitious  to 


102  "He-Yo-Bouse  Her  Up" 

have  an  Academy  in  the  village,  and  to  further  this  a 
generously-disposed  resident  donated  a  piece  of  ground 
as  a  site  for  the  structure.  Later  plans  were  made  for 
a  two-story  frame  building;  the  lumber  was  hauled  to 
the  ground  and  the  carpenters  got  the  frame  in  readi- 
ness, after  a  good  deal  of  time  spent  in  sawing,  boring 
holes,  mortising,  making  tennons,  and  strong  oak  pins. 
Then  a  day  was  set  for  the  raising,  in  which  every  able- 
bodied  citizen  was  expected  to  bear  a  part  and  work 
with  a  will. 

A  sturdy  man  with  a  stentorian  voice,  a  local  Metho- 
dist exhorter,  was  chosen  foreman,  and  when  everything 
was  ready — when  ropes,  tackle  and  pulleys  were  in 
place  and  every  man  at  his  post — the  foreman  stepped 
a  few  paces  aside,  and  in  a  vehement  manner  and  loud 
voice  gave  the  command :  ' '  He-yo-bouse  her  up ! "  ' '  He- 
yo-bouse  her  up!"  At  each  command,  those  at  the 
ropes  gave  a  strong,  concerted  pull  and  in  due  time  a 
given  portion  of  the  frame  was  in  the  air  where  an 
agile  man,  having  mounted  the  swaying  beam,  drove 
home  several  wooden  pins  and  thus  secured  it  in  place. 
This  was  followed  by  one  and  another  part  of  the  frame 
of  the  building,  till  finally  every  post,  every  beam,  every 
joist  and  every  brace  found  its  intended  location. 

Later  the  structure  was  enclosed,  shingled  and  floored, 
but  here,  for  want  of  money,  the  work  halted.  Mean- 
while, a  summer  term  was  taught  within  its  walls.  For- 
tunately a  man  moved  into  the  community  who  had 
some  ready  money  and  generously  offered  to  advance 
the  sum  needed  to  finish  the  building.  The  offer  was 
accepted  and  then  plasterers,  finishers  and  painters 
completed  the  work.  Thus,  finished  from  foundation 
to  roof -tree,  the  structure  was  taken  over  by  the  district 


The  ' '  Three  R's"  and  Some  More  103 

and,  for  more  than  a  half-century  thereafter,  served 
the  people  as  an  eligible  schoolhouse.  In  its  early  years 
it  was  called  "The  Academy",  and  indeed,  by  this 
name  it  continued  to  be  known  while  children  grew 
from  infancy  to  adult  life.  Something  more  than  a 
hundred  pupils  attended  the  school  in  this  building, 
and  these  were  in  charge  of  a  gentleman  principal  and 
a  lady  assistant.  In  addition  to  the  seven  branches  re- 
quired by  law,  namely,  reading,  writing,  arithmetic 
(the  three  R's),  spelling,  history,  geography  and  gram- 
mar, Lafin,  algebra,  chemistry  and  philosophy  (phys- 
ics) were  taught.  Unfortunately  there  were  no  chemi- 
cals and  no  apparatus  to  demonstrate  the  work  in  chem- 
istry and  physics.  Nevertheless  not  a  few  of  the  more 
important  rudiments  of  these  sciences  were  someway 
worked  into  the  nascent  and  always  receptive  minds  of 
these  students. 

"Olmstead's  Natural  Philosophy"  was  the  text  book 
used  in  physics,  and  among  other  things  it  delineated 
the  wonderful  working  of  Morse's  electric  telegraph; 
the  great  power  of  Watt's  low-pressure  engine  and  the 
remarkable  motor  capabilities  of  Stevenson's  locomotive. 

Silliman's  work  on  Chemistry  was  in  our  hands  and 
its  opening  sentence,  "An  Experiment  is  a  question  ad- 
dressed to  nature"  will  never  be  erased  from  Memory's 
tablet  as  long  as  reason  keeps  its  throne. 

We  used  Ray's  Arithmetic,  and  who  that  studied  this, 
can  ever  forget  the  problem:  "The  hour  and  minute 
hands  of  a  clock  are  together  at  noon.  When  will  they 
be  together  again?"  And  further,  who  can  forget  how 
he  puzzled  his  brain  over  it? 

One  of  the  important  factors  in  the  schools  of  that 
day  was  Webster's  Elementary  Spelling  Book.  Who 


104  The  "Blue-Backed"  Speller 

that  ever  saw  it  can  forget  its  two  blue  backs  between 
which  intervened  a  narrow  band  of  red !  On  one  of  its 
front  pages  was  some  sort  of  seer  or  prophet,  leading  a 
child  with  one  hand  and  pointing  with  the  other  to  a 
supposed  temple  of  fame  situated  on  an  almost  inacces- 
sible rocky  eminence.  Then  followed  a  b,  abs;  then  in 
perpendicular  columns,  its  words  of  two  syllables  ac- 
cented on  the  first;  others,  two-syllables,  accented  on 
the  second  and  so  on  up  to  "im-ma-te-ri-al-i-ty",  a  word 
of  seven  syllables  that  was  the  delight  of  the  bright 
girl  as  she  spelled  and  pronounced  each  syllable  sepa- 
rately. Toward  the  end  of  the  speller  was  a  picture 
of  good,  old  dog  Tray  who  was  so  unfortunate  as  to 
fall  into  bad  company  and  in  consequence  became  the 
recipient  of  numerous  kicks  and  cuffs.  There  was  also 
the  fable  that  illustrated  the  supreme  importance  of 
knowing  "whose  ox  had  been  gored".  Next  came  the 
picture  of  the  old  man  chiding  and  throwing  grass  at 
the  boys  who  were  up  in  his  apple  tree  helping  them- 
selves to  the  fruit;  and  their  taunting  words  and  teas- 
ing pantomime  that  finally  prompted  the  owner  to  pick 
up  some  large  pebbles  and  say:  "If  neither  words  nor 
threats  will  bring  you  down,  I  will  see  what  effect 
stones  will  have."  Of  course  the  young  thieves  came 
down  and  took  to  their  heels. 

How  faithful  the  brain  cells  have  been  in  keeping  an 
imperishable  record  of  the  old-time  Spelling  Bees!  Not 
infrequently  these  were  held  on  long  winter  evenings 
at  the  schoolhouse  and  were  attended  by  all  ages  and 
all  classes.  Two  persons,  known  to  bei  good  spellers, 
would  "choose-up",  that  is,  select  persons  to  spell  on 
their  side,  and  when  these  had  taken  their  places,  two 
long  rows  would  face  each  other  in  standing  position. 


Pocahontas  School  House    ("Academy"),  where   (in  the  50's),  author 
obtained   his   preliminary  education.      (Courtesy   Dr.   D.   R.   Wilkins) 


youthful  Ciceros  105 


The  words  would  be  "given  out",  or  pronounced,  by 
the  teacher  and  in  turn  given  to  an  individual  on  one 
side,  and  next  on  the  other,  and  when  a  word  was  mis- 
spelled, the  person  missing  it  would  sit  down  and  for 
the  time  be  "out  of  the  game",  so  to  speak.  "Who  does 
not  remember  the  modest,  quiet  girl  who,  as  someone 
said,  had  "swallowed"  the  spelling  book  and  in  conse- 
quence spelled  down  the  whole  school  and,  indeed,  all 
competitors. 

Not  infrequently  on  Friday  afternoons  the  whole 
school  would  have  a  spelling  bee.  At  other  times  on 
Friday  afternoons  there  would  be  declamations  and 
compositions,  participated  in  by  all  the  older  pupils. 
Webster's  speeches  afforded  favorite  selections,  espe- 
cially his  reply  to  Hayne  -and  his  John  Adams  speech, 
beginning:  "Sink  or  swim,  live  or  die,  survive  or  per- 
ish, I  give  my  heart  and  hand  to  this  vote."  Other 
favorites  were  Eeenzi's  address  to  the  Romans,  ending 
with:  "Rouse,  ye  Romans!  Rouse,  ye  slaves!"  stirring 
words  that  gave  opportunity  for  the  school's  champion 
declaimer  to  show  his  ability  at  its  best.  A  few  of  the 
boys  declaimed  well  and  creditably,  but  the  majority 
made  sorry  work  of  it.  Most  of  them  were  at  a  loss 
what  to  do  with  their  hands  and  not  a  few  would  recite 
a  few  words  of  the  piece  chosen,  hesitate,  stammer,  for- 
get and  sit  down. 

The  compositions  were,  for  the  most  part,  crude  and 
insipid  and  some  were  purloined.  Now  and  then  there 
would  be  one  that  gave  promise  of  future  ability  to 
write.  "Spring"  and  "Things  I  Like  to  See",  were 
favorite  topics  for  the  girls'  compositions.  One  pupil 
of  German  parentage,  whose  people  lived  on  a  neighbor- 
ing farm,  wrote  a  composition  "On  a  Mule",  the  first 


106  McGuffy 's  Readers 

words  of  which  were:  "A  mule  is  better  than  a  horse. 
In  fact  a  mule  is  the  best  horse  we've  got.  One  reason 
is,  a  mule  hardly  ever  dies.  I  never  knew  one  to  die  in 
my  life!" 

We  used  the  McGuffy  Eeaders — the  McGuffy  Readers 
newly  minted.  That  is  to  say,  when  they  had  but  re- 
cently come  from  the  brain  and  hand  of  their  author 
and  compiler,  and  were  not  edited,  re-edited,  amended 
and  worked  over  by  aliens  as  we  have  them  today.  As 
all  know,  hash  is  never  equal  to  a  fresh  beefsteak.  Who 
that  grew  up  with  these  readers  in  his  hand  can  ever 
forget  the  two  brothers  at  Christmas  time,  one  of  whom 
was  provident  and  carefully  untied  the  cord  about  his 
presents  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  while  the  other  cut 
and  threw  away  the  string  about  his  packages.  A  little 
later  the  improvident  brother  was  chagrined  when  he 
saw  his  brother  take  from  his  pocket  a  cord  and  use  it 
for  a  top-string,  while  for  want  of  one  his  own  top 
could  not  be  used.  Some  one  has  said  that  this  story 
so  impressed  its  lesson  upon  the  rising  generation  that 
much  string  of  questionable  value  was  saved,  at  the  cost 
of  much  time  of  unquestionable  value.  However,  the 
lesson  inculcated  was  a  valuable  one  in  various  ways. 

Then  there  was  somebody's  graphic    description    of 

the  burning  at  Rome  of  the  great  Amphitheater  and  the 

,  consequent  escape  of  hundreds  of  ferocious  wild  beasts. 

Then  there  was  that  old-time  exhortation  in  verse: 

"If  at  first  you  don't  succeed, 

Try,  try,  try  again ! 
Time  will  bring  you  your  reward,"  etc. 

I  attended  school  in  "The  Academy"  from  the  time 


Some  Faithful  Instructors  107 

of  its  completion  till  the  breaking  out  of  the  Civil  War ; 
and  when  it  had  faithfully  served  the  community  for  a 
half-century  I  had  the  pleasure  of  attending  a  celebra- 
tion held  under  its  roof  in  commemoration  of  this  fact. 
I  owe  no  little  to  the  schools  of  my  village,  taught  in 
this  so-called  " Academy".  I  also  owe  much  to  the  teach- 
ers who  taught  within  its  walls.  Among  these  I  recall 
one  by  the  name  of  Green  who  encouraged  me  to  study 
and  get  an  education;  and  whose  delight  was  to  call 
attention  to  the  merits  of  the  various  writers  whose  con- 
tributions could  be  found  in  the  advanced  Reader.  An- 
other one  of  my  teachers  was  Charles  W.  Johnson,  my 
cousin,  and  ten  years  my  senior,  who  later  was  a  good 
soldier  and  officer  in  the  Civil  War.  His  son,  the  Hon. 
Albert  Johnson,  now  represents  the  Third  District  of 
the  State  of  Washington  in  Congress. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

IN  AND  ABOUT  AN  ILLINOIS  CORNFIELD  IN  THE  FIFTIES. 

Welcome  weelfare  of  husbands  at  the  plow. 

— Gwin  Douglas. 

The  green-haired  maze,  her  silken  tresses  laid 
In  soft  luxuriance  on  her  harsh  brocade. 

— Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

The  beginning  of  the  second  half  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century  found  much  of  what  is  today  the  middle  West 
not  yet  brought  under  cultivation — especially  was  this 
true  of  Illinois,  then  known  as  the  "Prairie  State". 

The  first  plowing  of  the  sod,  ordinarily  referred  to 
as  "breaking  prairie",  was  in  its  way  an  arduous  un- 
dertaking, and  the  usual  outfit  for  this  was  a  large, 
strong  plow  drawn  by  oxen.  Immediately  in  front  of 
the  point  of  the  plow  was  a  coulter,  a  strong  piece  of 
iron  securely  fastened  to  the  beam  and  provided  with 
a  sharp  cutting  edge,  which  divided  the  sod  turned 
over  from  that  remaining.  As  a  result  of  this  arrange- 
ment, the  turned-over  sod  was  of  a  uniform  width  and 
thickness.  Six  yoke  of  oxen  not  infrequently  comprised 
the  propelling  power  of  one  of  these  plows  which  opened 
a  furrow  two  feet  or  more  in  width,  and  cut  roots,  and 
any  ordinary  obstruction,  with  the  utmost  facility.  This 
plow,  like  all  others  of  its  time,  had  handles,  but  in 
addition  was  attached  by  its  beam  to  a  pair  of  low 
•wheels  which  held  it  steady  and  kept  it  from  turning 
•over. 

(108) 


Breaking  Prairie  109 


The  man  who  drove  the  oxen,  the  ox-driver,  was  a 
unique  character.  He  was  coarse,  rough,  had  a  loud 
voice  and  could  "swear  by  note"  when  the  emergency 
seemed  to  demand  it.  He  carried  a  long,  heavy  ox- 
whip,  the  insignia,  as  it  were,  of  his  calling.  It  was 
made  of  twisted  raw-hide,  in  its  thickest  part  was  an 
inch  in  diameter,  and  was  attached  to  a)  long  handle 
made  from  a  small,  growing  hickory  upon  which  the 
bark  remained.  This  whip  he  was  fond  of  flourishing 
and  cracking  with  a  sharp  report,  and  meantime  any 
laggard  in  the  team  was  sure  to  get  from  it  a  prompt 
stroke.  For  each  of  his  oxen  he  had  names  and  when 
they  were  pulling  the  plow  he  was  constantly  directing 
this  one,  correcting  that  one,  and  chiding  the  other. 
It  was  "Gee,  Buck!"  "Haw,  Bright!"  "Git  up, 
Baldy!"  "What  are  you  doing  there,  Spot!"  and  so 
on  till  none  were  slighted  either  with  voice  or  whip- 
lash. 

Oxen  are  slow,  patient,  easily  satisfied  creatures  and 
they  contributed  much  towards  the  convenience  and 
comfort  of  the  pioneer.  Furthermore  they  were  a 
minimum  in  the  way  of  expense  and  trouble;  putting 
a  yoke  on  their  necks  of  mornings  was  the  work  of  a 
moment,  and  as  little  time  was  needed  to  remove  it  at 
night ;  and  water  to  drink  and  grass  to  eat  was  all  they 
required  till  the  coming  of  another  morning  found  them 
ready,  willing  and  able  to  patiently  labor  and  plod 
one  more  day  for  man,  the  master. 

When  the  prairie  sod  was  turned  over  in  the  spring 
it  was  at  once  planted  in  corn.  This  was  usually  done 
with  a  hoe  (sometimes  with  an  ax),  and  as  the  growing 
crop  required,  and  received  no  cultivation,  it  was  known 
;as  "sod-corn". 


110  Springs  and  Early  Settlers 

Not  unfrequently  prairie  breaking  occurred  later 
and  in  this  event  the  newly  turned  over  ground  would 
be  sown  to  fall  wheat,  and  a  good  crop  under  such  cir- 
cumstances could  nearly  always  be  depended  upon. 

The  year  following  the  first  turning  over  the  virgin 
prairie,  it  could  be  plowed  with  two  horses  and  an 
ordinary  breaking-plow  and  planted  to  any  crop  de- 
sired ;  nevertheless,  it  was  sometimes  two  or  three  years 
before  the  last  remains  of  the  prairie  sod  would  dis- 
appear. 

In  pioneer  days  the  wooded  sections  of  the  "  Prairie 
State"  were  the  first  to  attract  settlers.  The  water- 
courses were  fringed  with  timber  that  grew  heavy  near 
the  streams  but  became  lighter  as  the  prairie  was  ap- 
proached, and  when  the  latter  was  reached  ended  in  a 
scrubby  undergrowth  of  stunted  hickories,  scrub  oaks, 
crab-apple  bushes,  hazel-brush  and  briars. 

The  point  where  timber  and  prairie  met  was  ever  a 
variable  one,  a  sort  of  irregular  shore-line  that  jutted 
out  here  in  a  little  peninsula,  and  receding  yonder,  left 
a  large  open  space  in  which  the  swaying  prairie  grass 
seemed  like  waves  in  a  small  bay. 

The  earlier  settlements  were  for  the  most  part  made 
in  the  southern  sections  of  Illinois  and  here  the  new- 
comer, nearly  always  from  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  North 
Carolina  or  Virginia,  invariably  located  upon  a  run- 
ning stream  and,  furthermore,  if  practicable,  built  his 
rude  cabin  convenient  to  a  spring  of  water. 

But  as  there  were  not  springs  enough  to  go  round, 
the  near  vicinity  of  one  of  these  was  often  denied  to 
him  who  came  later.  In  the  majority  of  cases,  how- 
ever, the  early  settler  was  so  wedded  to  this  form  of 
water-supply  that  he  would  carry  water,  or  rather  have 


Destroying  Homes  111 

some  female  member  of  his  family  carry  it,  up  hills 
and  across  hollows  from  an  indifferent  spring  a  half- 
mile  or  more  distant,  rather  than  sink  a  well  in  his 
door-yard  where,  in  most  cases,  inexhaustible  supplies 
of  the  purest  water  could  be  had  by  digging  a  few  feet. 

After  a  time  a  chain  of  farms  stretched  along  the 
timber's  edge  and  thus  it  happened  that  the  corn-fields 
upon  these  earlier  settled  farms  would  upon  one  side 
encroach  upon  the  woods  and  present  the  feature  of  a 
timber  farm,  while  the  other  would  extend  out  in  the 
prairie  and  have  all  the  characteristics  of  the  latter. 

In  early  spring  all  the  working  force  of  the  farm 
was  utilized  for  getting  in  and  caring  for  the  growing 
corn-crop.  As  soon  as  frost  was  out  of  the  ground, 
usually  from  the  first  to  the  middle  of  April,  plowing 
began.  This  first  plowing,  or  "  breaking-up ",  was  done 
with  a  team  of  horses  or  yoke  of  oxen,  and  as  the 
ground  had  not  been  disturbed  since  the  previous  season, 
it  was  firm  enough  to  make  the  plow  "scour"  nicely 
and  open  up  a  long  straight  furrow,  from  which  the 
bright  mould-board  rolled  up  and  turned  to  one  side 
the  rich,  loose  soil  of  the  great  corn-growing  state. 

As  the  whole  field  was  turned  up  from  four  to  eight 
inches  deep,  it  followed  that  nearly  everything  in  the 
vegetable  or  animal  way  that  had  here  a  home  was 
either  destroyed  or  seriously  disturbed  by  the  plow- 
share. Quails,  prairie  chickens,  and  other  species  of 
birds  that  build  their  nests  on  the  ground  had  these 
broken  up  and  destroyed  utterly.  Gophers,  ground- 
squirrels,  moles,  and  various  species  of  field-mice  that 
find  homes  by  burrowing  in  the  ground,  had  their  domi- 
ciles suddenly  invaded  and  rudely  torn  asunder  by  the 
plow,  just  as  lordly  man  sometimes  has  his  more  pre- 


112  Strange  But  True 


tentious  dwelling  ruined  or  wiped  out  of  existence  by 
the  all-devastating  cyclone. 

Sometimes  snakes'  eggs,  irregular  in  outline  and  re- 
pulsive in  appearance,  were  turned  up  with  the  fresh 
earth.  Various  kinds  of  snakes  were  seen;  now  it  was 
a  black  and  yellow  "garter"  snake,  next  a  blue  "racer", 
and  then  a  blacksnake,  and  occasionally  a  rattlesnake 
with  its  beautifully  mottled  surface,  ever  busy  rattles, 
and  broad,  flat  head  and  open  mouth  with  venomous, 
protruding  tongue,  and  wicked-looking  jaws,  studded 
with  poisonous  fangs. 

One  day,  with  several  boys  near  my  own  age,  I  was 
plowing  corn,  when  one.  of  us  killed  a  striped  snake 
that  seemed  to  be  unduly  large  around.  Supposing  it 
had  swallowed  a  toad  that  might  yet  be  alive  we  con- 
cluded to  cut  the  snake  open  and  give  any  living  thing 
within  it  its  liberty.  So  we  opened  up  the  snake,  but 
instead  of  finding  the  expected  toad,  we  found  a  great 
number  of  little  snakes.  Being  curious  to  know  just 
how  many  there  were  we  counted  them,  and  they  num- 
bered seventy-six!  I  related  this  circumstance  to  a 
Naturalist,  not  long  since,  and  from  him  I  learned  that 
this  species  of  snake  does  not  propagate  by  means  of 
eggs,  but  brings  forth  its  young  alive. 

By  and  by  the  steady-going  plow  made  the  whole 
field  black  with  the  newly  upturned  soil ;  and  next  har- 
rows were  put  on  to  further  pulverize  the  surface. 
Then  with  one  horse  and  a  small  "diamond"  plow  the 
field  was  laid  off  one  way  into  furrows,  three  and  one- 
half  feet  apart.  These  furrows  when  intersected  by 
others  at  right  angles,  served  to  indicate  where  hills  of 
corn  were  to  be  planted,  thus  insuring  corn  rows  in 
two  directions.  Three  to  five  grains  were  put  in  a  hill, 


"From  Sun-up  Till  Sun-down"  113 

and  this — "dropping  corn" — was  usually  done  by  boys 
and  often  by  girls.  These  became  quite  expert  in  this 
work,  often  putting  the  corn  in  place  as  fast  as  a  rap- 
idly walking  horse,  with  a  plow  behind  him,  would 
mark  out  the  furrow.  Following  the  dropper  was  a 
second  plow  that  covered  the  corn  lightly.  In  from  one 
to  two  weeks  the  round,  green,  sharp-pointed,  nail-like 
shoots  of  corn  would  be  seen  pushing  through  the 
ground.  When  the  corn  reached  the  height  of  two  or 
three  inches  it  was  cultivated  with  little  "diamond" 
plows,  but  the  dirt  was  thrown  from,  not  towards  the 
young  plants.  Warm  showers  in  May  and  June  and 
hot  nights  in  the  latter  month  caused  the  young  crop 
to  grow  fast,  and  six  weeks  after  planting  the  corn  was 
"knee-high",  standing  about  eighteen  inches  in  the 
rows. 

The  cultivation  of  the  growing  crop  was  pushed  with 
great  energy,  as  had  been  the  preparation  of  the  ground 
in  early  spring,  and  later  the  planting.  The  field  was 
reached  a  little  after  "sun-up",  while  yet  the  sun  was 
a  clearly-defined  round  ball  upon  which  the  eye  could 
rest  steadily.  As  yet  the  great  fires  of  day  had  not 
long  been  glowing,  the  huge  bellows  of  nature  was  work- 
ing slowly,  the  orb  just  above  the  eastern  horizon  was 
only  at  a  "red  heat",  but, an  hour  or  two  later  would 
come  "white  heat"  with  its  dazzling  brilliancy,  when 
no  eye  could  dwell  upon  it. 

In  the  early  morning  beads  of  dew  sparkled  from 
every  blade  of  grass.  At  the  upper  end  of  each  stalk 
of  growing  corn  its  spreading  leaves  came  together  in 
such  a  way  as  to  form  a  large,  open-mouthed  funnel, 
at  the  bottom  of  which  was  a  little  fountain  of  water, 
which  the  converging,  trough-like  leaves  had  distilled 


114  A  Bloodless  Battle-Line 

from  the  night's  dews,  and  now  it  was  gently  passing 
down  to  the  very  heart  and  center  of  the  growing  plant. 

The  rows  of  corn,  often  straight  as  arrows,  stretched 
across  the  fields  in  lines  of  beautiful  green.  Up  one 
side  of  a  row  and  down  on  the  other  went  the  plow,  the 
stalks  of  corn  now  strong  enough  to  bear  the  dirt  which 
the  little  diamond  rolled  up  and  threw  against  them 
vigorously. 

Upon  the  western  side  of  the  field  was  the  open  prai- 
rie, upon  which  horses  and  cattle  roamed  at  large,  and 
ate  of  the  vigorous,  nutritious  prairie  grass  as  freely 
as  was  breathed  the  fresh,  pure  air  all  about.  Far  to 
the  west,  across  the  broad,  expansive  prairie,  could  just 
be  seen  the  timber-line,  along  which  the  smoke  from 
half  a  dozen  chimneys  told  where  were  the  links  in  an- 
other chain  of  pioneer '  farms, — farms  whose  owners 
came  to  the  new  land  of  promise  to  better  their  for- 
tunes, but  firm  in  the  faith  that  no  place  was  perfect 
whose  location  was  not  convenient  to  a  creek  and  the 
indispensable  spring  of  water. 

Touching,  or  rather  pressing  strongly  against  the 
eastern  aspect  of  the  corn-field,  was  the  timber.  For 
the  forest  seemed  to  resist  stoutly  the  proffered  neigh- 
borhood of  the  corn-field,  and  beat  back  vigorously  the 
encroachments  of  the  plow;  showing  its  defiance  by 
crossing  the  barrier  set  up  between  wild  and  cultivated 
nature,  and  filling  the  fence-corners  next  the  field  with 
a  dense  tangle  of  briars,  wild  vines,  and  undergrowth, 
while  crowding  against  the  fence  on  the  other  side  was 
a  perfect  jungle  of  stunted,  but  stout  forest  trees,  crab- 
apple  bushes,  thorns  and  brush,  all  twisted  and  matted 
together  into  a  veritable  snarl  by  vines  crossing  and 
cris-crossing  in  every  direction. 


A  Harvest  of  Promise  115 

At  one  point  in  the  crooked  rail-fence,  a  young  hick- 
ory had  grown  through  a  crevice,  and  after  a  while, 
waxing  strong,  had  straightened  up  and  thrown"  the 
rails  above  to  one  side,  thus  showing  its  defiance  of  all 
such  barriers,-  and  readiness,  if  needs  be,  to  bear  them 
away  on  its  stout  young  back. 

By  the  early  days  of  August,  shrub,  briar,  bush  and 
vine  had  run  such  wild  vegetable  riot  that  all  about  the 
fence  seemed  but  an  unsightly  waste  of  plant  life. 
Meanwhile,  the  growing  corn  had  attained  to  superb 
beauty.  Crowned  with  a  rich,  golden-yellow  tassel  and 
clothed  in  long,  deep  green  leaves,  that  grew  in  gentle 
curves  and  swayed  to  and  fro  gently  and  softly  rustled 
in  every  passing  Jbreeze,  each  stalk  stood  tall,  almost 
stately,  and  already  laden  with  its  harvest  of  promise — 
a  large  succulent  roasting-ear  whose  tip  was  trimmed 
with  a  soft,  delicate  silken  tuft  that  curled  over  and 
hung  down  gracefully. 

Upon  the  growing  maize  the  faithful  farmer  looked 
with  ever  increasing  interest.  He  saw  "the  little  ger- 
minating seeds,  just  thrusting  their  pale  heads  up 
through  the  soil.  He  saw  the  clustering  green  shoots — 
numerous  in  the  sign  of  plenty — all  crowding  together 
and  clamoring  for  light  and  air,  and  room.  He  saw  the 
prevailing  of  the  tall  and  strong  upthrusting  stalks 
after  the  way  of  life ;  saw  the  others  dwarf  and  whiten, 
and  yet  cling  on  at  the  base  of  the  bolder  stem — para- 
sites, worthless,  yet  existing,  after  the  way  of  life. 

"He  saw  the  great  central  stalks  spring  boldly  up, 
so  swiftly  that  it  almost  seemed  possible  to  count  the 
successive  leaps  of  progress.  He  saw  the  beckoning 
banners  of  the  pale  tassels  bursting  out  atop  of  the 
stalk,  token  of  fecundity  and  of  the  future.  He  caught 


116  "/  Will  Feed  Ye  All" 

the  wide-driven  pollen  as  it  whitened  upon  the  earth, 
borne/  by  the  parent  West  Wind,  mother  of  increase. 
He  saw  the  thickening  of  the  green  leaf  at  the  base, 
its  swelling,  its  growth  and  expansion,  till  the  indefi- 
nite enlargement  showed  at  length  the  incipient  ear. 

"He  noted  the  faint  brown  ends  of  the  sweetly-en- 
veloping silk  of  the  ear,  pale-green  and  soft  underneath 
the  sheltering  and  protecting  husk.  He  found  the 
sweet  and  milk-white  tender  kernels,  row  upon  row, 
forming  rapidly  beneath  the  husk,  and  saw  at  length 
the  hardening  and  darkening  of  the  husk  at  its  free 
end,  which  told  that  man  might  pluck  and  eat. 

"And  then  he  saw  the  fading  of  the  tassels,  the  dark- 
ling of  the  silk  and,  the  crinkling  of  the  blades;  and 
there  borne  on  the  strong  parent  stem,  he  noted  how 
many  full-rowed  ears,  protected  by  their  shucks  and 
heralded  by  the  tassels  and  the  blades:  'Come,  come 
ye,  all  ye  people !  Enter  in,  for  I  will  feed  ye  all ! '  ' 

From  the  time  I  was  twelve  till  I  reached  the  age 
of  eighteen  years  I  spent  the  warmer  months  on  the 
farm  where  the  work  was  hard  and  the  hours  long,  so 
long,  indeed,  that  no  record  was  kept  of  them.  "Sun- 
up till  sun-down"  was  the  rule,  and  following  this 
through  the  month  of  June  kept  me  in  the  corn-field 
behind  the  plow  something  like  fifteen  hours.  Rather 
hard  on  a  growing  boy,  but  I  lived  through  it. 

Looking  back  at  my  boy-experience  on  the  farm, 
from  the  view-point  of  many  years  after,  I  can  but 
regard  it  with  satisfaction;  for  it  brought  me  in  touch 
with  nature  as  nothing  else  would;  and  enabled  me  to 
learn  something  of  animal  life  and  vegetable  life  as 
nothing  else  could. 


*Emerson  Hough. 


Prairie  Plow  and  Ox- Yokes.     (See  page  108). 
(Loaned  by  0.  W.  Converse,  Springfield,  111.) 


Iron    Kettle,   Ash   Hopper   and    Soap   Barrel.      (See   page    22). 
(Loaned  by  O.  W.  Converse,  Springfield,  111.) 


CHAPTER   XII. 

BOOKS,  PERIODICALS  AND  OTHER  READING  MATTER  IN 
THE  FIFTIES. 

"If  I  should  pray  for  a  taste  which  might  stand  me  in  stead 
under  every  variety  of  circumstances,  and  be  a  source  of  hap- 
piness and  cheerfulness  through  life,  and  shield  against  ills, 
however  things  might  go  amiss  and  the  world  frown  upon  me, 
it  would  be  a  taste  for  reading. — Sir  John  Herschell. 

And  as  for  me,  though  I  konne  but  lyte, 
And  bokes  for  to  rede  I  do  delyte, 
And  to  give  I  feyth  and  ful  credence, 
And  it  my  herte  have  in  reverence, 
So  hertely  thet  there  is  game  noon, 
That  for  my  bokes  maketh  me  to  goom,  .... 

— Chaucer. 

A  blessing  on  the  printer's  art! 
Books  are  the  mentors  of  the  heart. 

— Mrs.  Hale. 

Books  were  few  and  of  those  found  in  the  homes  a 
considerable  proportion  were  of  a  religious  nature.  Of 
these  last  some  were  devoted  to  biblical  history  and 
other  to  Bible  characters.  Then  there  was  Daubigne's 
History  of  the  Reformation,  Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs,  the 
Lives  of  the  Apostles,  Josephus,  and  others  of  a  like 
nature.  It  was  not  uncommon  to  find  the  life  of  some 
noted  preacher  such  as  John  "Wesley,  Lorenzo  Dow,  or 
Whitfield,  and  maybe  a  copy  of  The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 
Religious  books,  controversial  in  character,  were  favor- 
ites with  some.  Of  books  secular  in  nature  may  be 

(117) 


118  The  Almanac 


named   Rollin's  Ancient   History,    Hume's    History   of 
England,  and  Weem's  Life  of  George  Washington. 

But  in  few  homes  were  there  books  enough  to  fill  a 
two-foot  shelf,  and  in  many  instances  all  that  would  be 
found  would  be  the  Bible  and  an  Almanac;  the  latter, 
truth  compels  me  to  say,  was  in  too  many  cases  more 
often  consulted  than  the  former.  Almanacs  were  put 
out  by  patent  medicine  houses  and  very  naturally  were 
mainly  devoted  to  exploiting  their  remedies.  Most  peo- 
ple swallowed  the  medicines  no  less  than  the  recom- 
mendations that  went  with  them,  often  miraculous  in 
both  claims  and  promises.  These  remedies  were  rec- 
ommended for  substantially  every  disease  and  the  ac- 
counts published  of  their  magical  cures  were  convincing 
to  many.  There  was  no  voice  raised  to  controvert  these 
ridiculous  claims  and  the  result  was  the  patent  medi- 
cine man  had  things  his  own  way.  In  the  Almanac 
there  was  always  a  calendar,  and  for  almost  every  day 
there  was  a  prediction  made  relative  to  what  the 
weather1  would  be.  That  these  predictions  were  the 
baldest  guess-work  the  reader  can  well  imagine.  To 
be  sure  the  Almanac  seer  or  prophet  kept  within  cer- 
tain bounds,  as  for  illustration  he  would  predict  very 
cold  weather  in  January,  snow  and  ice  in  February, 
alternate  freezing  and  thawing  in  March,  frequent  show- 
ers in  April,  many  bright  days  in  May,  warm  weather 
in  June,  hot,  dry  wreather  in  July  and  August,  light 
frost  in  September,  Indian  summer  in  October  and 
killing  frosts  in  November,  and  snow,  ice  and  cold 
weather  in  December.  Kidiculous  as  it  now  seems, 
when  the  farmers  were  burdened  with  too  much  rain 
or  the  crops  were  suffering  from  too  little,  honest  tillers 
of  the  soil,  otherwise  sensible,  would  in  all  seriousness 


The  Colporteur  119 


consult  the  weather  predictions  of  the  Patent  Medicine 
Almanac.  Let  it  be  known,  however,  that  the  Govern- 
ment Weather  Bureau  had  not  yet  come  into  existence. 

In  many  homes  an  Almanac  would  be  procured  at 
the  beginning  of  the  year  and  hung  up  in  the  kitchen 
for  ready  reference.  Meanwhile  it  would  become  dog- 
eared, and  with  the  advent  of  the  fall  months  it  would 
come  to  be  studded  all  over  with  brown  spots  which  in 
unmistakable  terms  told  it  was  a  convenient  and  much- 
used  fly-roost.  But  little  cared  the  members  of  the 
household  for  this  desecration,  and  the  Almanac  would 
continue  to  be  consulted  till  it  was  superseded  by  its 
successor  at  the  beginning  of  the  New  Year. 

The  Colporteur  found  much  more  encouragement  in 
his  work  in  the  50 's  than  he  does  today  and  prosecuted 
it  with  much  vigor.  Several  times  a  year  he  would  visit 
every  house  in  the  village  and  leave  his  religious  tracts 
and  sell  Bibles  and  Testaments  at  an  astonishingly  low 
price,  to  all  who  would  buy.  In  a  gig  or  on  horseback 
he  would  visit  every  house  in  the  country  and  distribute 
his  literature  and  sell  his  books.  No  stress  of  weather 
or  other  handicap  would  stop  his  work  or  dampen  his 
zeal. 

That  was  the  golden  era  of  the  weekly  newspaper, 
and  subscribers  looked  forward  writh  the  "greatest  inter- 
est to  the  day  when  their  paper  would  come  through 
the  postoffice.  People  had  not  yet  been  educated  to  the 
point  where  news  a  day  old  is  considered  stale.  The 
two*  leading  merchants  in  the  village  each  took  a  St. 
Louis  daily,  mainly  for  the  markets,  but  no  one  else 
thought  of  such  a  thing  as  taking  a  daily  paper.  In- 
deed in  that  time  not  one  person  read  a  daily  where 
hundreds  do  today.  Many  families  took  a  religious 


120  Newspapers  and  Magazines 

"\ 

weekly,  and  to  the  credit  of  the  newspapers  of  that  pe- 
riod it  can  be  said  that  the  "Yellow  Sheet"  had  not  as 
yet  come  into  existence. 

St.  Louis,  Missouri,  forty  miles  west  of  our  village, 
was  our  nearest  large  city,  and  here  was  published  the 
Missouri  Republican,  a  paper  Democratic  in  politics. 
In  the  late  fifties  in  that  city  there  sprung  into  being 
The  Missouri  Democrat,  Republican  in  politics,  and 
which  exists  today  as  the  last  half  of  the  hyphenated 
name  of  one  of  St.  Louis's  leading  newspapers.  After 
a  career^  of  the  greater  part  of  a  century  under  the 
name  Missouri  Republican,  that  paper  changed  to  St. 
Louis  Republic. 

Horace  Greeley  was  in  the  zenith  of  his  great  news- 
paper career  and  a  great  many  took  his  New  York  Trib- 
une and  received  its  teachings  like  gospel. 

Harper's  Weekly  and  Frank  Leslie's  were  about  the 
only  illustrated  papers  with  character  and  standing. 

Magazines  were  vastly  less  common  than  today.  Har- 
per's New  Monthly  Magazine  had  but  recently  come 
into  existence.  The  Atlantic  Monthly  was  launched 
late  in  the  fifties  and  had  the  same  appearance  and 
characteristics  that  it  has  today.  These  two  magazines 
had  the  field  to  themselves.  Putnam's  Magazine,  good 
in  its  way,  had  a  short-lived  existence. 

From  the  foregoing  it  will  be  seen  that  reading  mat- 
ter was  as  much  too  scarce  then  as,  in  some  particulars, 
it  is  too  plentiful  today.  One  result  of  this  was  to 
make  people  more  appreciative  of  what  they  had.  So 
true  was  this  that  some  of  the  old  school  readers  were 
kept  in  the  homes  because  of  the  fine  literary  selections 
in  them.  This" was  especially  true  of  Murray's  English 
Eeader  and  of  the  Third,  Fourth  and  Fifth  Readers  of 


Literary  Longings  121 

the  McGuffey  series,  all  of  which  were  in  a  sense  studded 
with  literary  gems.  Addison,  Dryden,  Pope,  Goldsmith, 
Samuel  Johnson,  Scott,  Shakespeare,  Campbell,  Thomp- 
son, the  Bible,  Milton,  Byron,  Irving,  Cooper,  Bryant, 
were  some  of  the  authors  and  sources  from  which  these 
selections  were  made.  Further  than  this,  well  written 
and  interesting  articles  were  cut  out  of  newspapers  and 
other  periodicals  and  pasted  in  scrap  books  where  they 
could  be  preserved  and  read  by  all. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  numerous  young  per- 
sons of  that  era  suffered  from  a  sort  of  literary  starva- 
tion ;  I  myself  recall  with  what  longing  eyes  I  sometimes 
looked,  from  afar,  upon  some  attractive  book  or  maga- 
zine. 

I  saw  a  boy  with  eager  eye 

Open  a  book  upon  a  stall, 

And  read,  as  he'd  devour  it  all ; 
Which,  when  the  stall-man  did  espy, 

Soon  to  the  boy  I  heard  him  call : 

"You,  sir,  you  never  buy  a  book, 

Therefore  in  one  you  shall  not  look." 
The  boy  passed  slowly  on,  and  with  a  sigh 
He  wished  he  never  had  been  taught  to  read, 
Then  of  the  old  churl's  books  he  should  have  had  no  need. 

— Mary  Lamb. 

About  the  middle  of  the  fifties  the  villagers  got  to- 
gether a  fund  and  purchased  the  books  for  a  small  cir- 
culating Library  which  was  destined  to  supply  a  long- 
felt  need.  Two  young  men  who  attended  college  and 
acquired  some  literary  culture  were  the  most  active 
members  of  a  committee  appointed  to  select  the  vol- 
umes for  the  much-talked-of  and  much-thought-of  Li- 
brary. I  now  realize  that  this  committee  was  at  least 


122  A  Village  Library 


measurably  qualified  for  the  work  assigned  it,  and 
among  the/  books  recommended  and  in  due  time  pro- 
cured I  recall  Hume's  History  of  England,  Macaulay's 
History  of  England,  Macaulay's  Essays,  Addisou's 
Spectator,  Abbott's  Lives  of  Caesar,  Xerxes,  Cyrus 
Hannibal,  Cleopatra  and  other  Ancient  Worthies,  Plu- 
tarch's Lives,  Gibbon's  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico,  Milton's  Poems, 
Bryant's  Poems,  Irving 's  Works,  Pope's  Poems,  Mrs. 
Heman's  Poems,  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United 
States,  The  Life  of  Webster,  Wirt's  Life  of  Patrick 
Henry,  etc.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  this  little  library 
was  a  God-send  to  some  of  us. 

In  the  late  fifties,  from  the 'school  fund  of  the  town- 
ship a  certain  sum  was  devoted  to  the  purchase  of  a 
library  of  well-selected  books,  comprising  for  the  most 
part  histories  and  biographies. 

Harper  and  Brothers  were  the  principal  publishers 
of  that  time.  Most  of  the  books  were  in  relatively  small 
type  and  closely  printed  with  long  paragraphs  and  nar- 
row margins,  consequently  the  printed  page  of  the  mid- 
dle of  the  Nineteenth  Century  was  not  as  attractive  as 
it  came  to  be  fifty  years  later. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 
Two  VILLAGE  DOCTORS. 

The  blacksmith  ailed,  the  carpenter  was  down, 
And  half  the  children  sickened  in  the  town. 

— Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 
Up  and  down  the  village  streets, 
Strange  are  the  thoughts  my  fancy  meets. 

— Whit  tier. 

Iii  the  early  fifties  a  heavy  forest  of  shellbark  hick- 
ories, burr-oak,  ash  and  sycamores  stretched  like  a 
dense,  thick  curtain  along  the  banks  of  a  stream  that 
in  its  course  riverward  turned  many  mill-wheels. 

A  mile  west  of  this  stream  the  forest  frayed  out  into 
a  thin  fringe  of  stunted  hickories,  pin-oaks,  crab-apple 
bushes  and  hazel  brush  as  it  touched  the  prairies. 

In  this  fringe-like  margin  of  the  forest  lay  a  little 
pioneer  village  which  had  been  most  aptly  named 
Prairiedge.  It  was  like  all  of  its  class,  a  quiet  village, 
and  of  mornings  its  inhabitants  found  their  chief  inter- 
est center  about  the  coming  of  the  stage*  coach  from 
the  east,  while  in  the  afternoons  their  main  diversion 
was  experienced  when  the  stage  arrived  from  the  west. 

Through  the  center  of  the  village  ran  a  common  dirt- 
road,  dignified  with  the  name  National  Road,  and  for 
about  a  fourth  of  a  mile  this  highway  constituted  the 
one  principal  street  of  Prairiedge,  and  upon  either 
side  of  this  simple  thoroughfare  were  the  dwellings  of 
the  villagers. 

Upon  the  north  side  in  a  little  unpainted  cottage  with 

(123) 


124  The  "Mineral"  Doctor 

its  eaves  to  the  street  lived  the  Old  School,  or  Mineral 
doctor.  Upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  in  an 
equally  unpretentious  dwelling  with  its  gable  to  the 
front,  lived  the  New  School,  or  Botanic  doctor. 

Beside  the  dwelling  of  the  Old  School  doctor  was  a 
little  frame  structure,  boarded  up  square  in  front,  with 
a  door  opening  from  the  sidewalk,  and  beside  which  was 
a  solitary  window.  Hanging  upon  a  rusty  iron  rod, 
cooing  in  the  zephyrs  of  June  and  creaking  and  groan- 
ing in  the  blasts  of  November,  was  a  tin  sign  upon 
either  side  of  which  were  the  words:  Salmon  Tartar, 
M.  D.,  Physician  and  Surgeon.  Upon  entering  this  lit- 
tle office  of  Dr.  Tartar's,  for  such  it  was,  you  would 
see  in  a  plain  walnut  case  at  one  side  of  the  room  a 
number  of  well-worn  volumes,  among  which  were  Wat- 
son's Practice  of  Medicine,  Druit's  System  of  Surgery, 
Churchill's  Science  and  Art  of  Midwifery,  Williams' 
Principles  of  Medicine,  Dunglison's  Dictionary,  etc. 
You  would  also  see  full  files  of  that  sterling  old  medical 
periodical,  The  American  Journal  of  the  Medical  Sci- 
ences. Upon  shelves  at  the  other  side  of  the  room  were 
a  few  jars,  bottles  and  packages,  containing  for  the 
most  part  drugs.  Upon  looking  closely,  however,  you 
would  find  that  more  than  one  package  was  labeled 
"Smoking  Tobacco". 

Sitting  in  a  splint-bottom  chair  could  almost  always 
be  found  Dr.  Tartar,  a  round-faced,  self-contained  ap- 
pearing man,  seemingly  about  forty-five  years  of  age. 
He  further  impressed  the  observer  as  being  a  quiet, 
good-natured,  contented  man  who  was  disposed  to  re- 
gard this  a  pretty  good  old  world,  notwithstanding  the 
many  mean  things  said  about  it. 

At  the  rear  of  Dr.  Tartar's  office  was  a  door  from 


A  Mini'ilur?  Hif/hway 


which  led  a  well-worn  patli  to  the  kitchen  door  of  the 
doctor's  dwelling.  Were  you  permitted  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  inside  history  of  this  miniature  high- 
way you  would  probably  find  that  very  little  of  the 
good  doctor's  shoe-leather  had  contributed  to  its  for- 
mation, but  as  regards  his  wife  the  same  could  not  be 
said.  Mrs.  Tartar  was  a  tall,  angular  woman  with  high 
cheek  bones  and  flashing  black  eyes.  She  was  possessed 
of  great  energy  and  a  tongue  that  upon  occasions  could 
be  as  cutting  as  a  knife. 

Innumerable  were  the  times  when  Dr.  Tartar,  sitting 
quietly^  smoking,  reading,  or  lost  in  one  of  his  day- 
dreams, having  and  desiring  no  companion  but  his  meer- 
schaum, which  a  grateful  German  patient  had  given 
him  and  which  he  smoked  incessantly  —  innumerable,  I 
was  about  to  say,  were  the  occasions  when  Dr.  Tartar's 
studies  or  reveries  were  interrupted  by  the  sharp  voice 
of  his  wife  at  the  back  door  of  his  office  scolding  him 
for  delaying  a  promised  professional  visit  or  berating 
him  for  permitting  his  competitor  across  the  way  to 
get  from  him  another  patient  prominent  in  the  village. 

Strange  to  say,  Mrs.  Tartar's  maiden  name  was 
Sweet,  and  in  her  home  she  was  one  of  those  intensely 
energetic  housekeepers  who  manage  to  keep  things  in 
a  perpetual  state  of  disorder  by  reason  of  continuous 
and  misdirected  efforts  at  setting  them  to  rights.  One 
of  the  articles  of  furniture  in  the  Tartar  household  was 
an  old  melodeon  which  in  her  girlhood  Mrs.  Tartar  had 
played  on  with  some  skill.  Indeed,  it  was  said  that  it 
was  the  melodious  tones  of  this  old-time  instrument 
that  first  enticed  the  attention  of  Dr.  Tartar  to  the 
black-eyed,  energetic  maiden.  Those,  however,  were 
the  good  old  days  that  had  become  ancient  history,  and 


126  Dr.  Tartar— "Mineral"  Doctor 

some  of  the  profane  villagers  went  so  far  as  to  say  that 
later  all  the  music  the  good  doctor  ever  heard  from  his 
wife  wrere  the  piercing  and  discordant  notes  of  ''Hell 
on  the  Wabash". 

So  much  for  Dr.  Tartar.  What  of  his  competitor 
across  the  street,  Dr.  Tobias  Tansy  ?  beside  whose  dwell- 
ing was  a  little  frame  structure  the  almost  exact  coun- 
terpart of  Dr.  Tartar's  office  save  that  it  was  adorned 
with  a  most  conspicuous  sign  in  big  letters  and  wyhich 
was  as  follows:  "Infirmary  of  Dr.  Tobias  Tansy,  Bo- 
tanic and  .Re-Form  Physician".  Upon  entering  this 
structure  one  would  see  one  side  of  the  room  occupied 
by  shelves  upon  which  were  many  jars,  bottles  and 
paper  boxes  filled  with  herbs,  roots,  and  other  products 
from  the  vegetable  kingdom,  and  prominent  among 
which  wrere  packages  and  containers  labeled  "Lobelia". 
Upon  some  shelves  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  were 
a  few  books  and  periodicals,  prominent  among  which 
were  Dr.  Samuel  Thompson's  Manual  of  Practice,  while 
among  the  medical  papers  were  the  "Lobelian",  "The 
Lobelia  Advocate",  "The  Lobelia  Sentinel".  There 
was  also  "The  Botanic  Recorder",  in  the  pages  of  which 
occurred  many  times,  in  reproachful  reference  to  the 
Dominant  School  of  Medicine,  the  words,  "Regular", 
"Medical  Monopoly",  etc.  Standing  in.  the  middle  of 
the  room  could  not  unfrequently  be  seen  a  tall,  lean 
man  with  a  hooked  nose  and  large  mouth,  and  who  in 
accord  with  the  fashion  of  the  times  was  without  whis- 
kers, though  his  face  was  covered  with  the  bristly  prod- 
uct of  a  weeks 's  neglect  of  the  use  of  the  razor.  It 
perhaps  need  not  be  said  that  this  man  was  Dr.  Tansy, 
who  had  a  much- jointed  appearance  from  seemingly 


Dr.  Tansy— a  "Botanic"  Doctor  127 

possessing  a  profusion  of  knees,  ankles,  elbows  and 
wrists. 

Such  was  Dr.  Tobias  Tansy,  whose  dress  was  as  little 
attractive  as  his  figure  was  awkward  and  ungainly.  His 
"store-clothes"  hung  upon  him  in  a  way  that  formed 
unseemly  wrinkles  and  doubled  into  many  ungraceful 
folds,  and  upon  his  head  was  a  high  ("plug")  hat  that 
was  pushed  down  till  it  nearly  rested  upon  his  big  ears. 
Unlike  Dr.  Tartar,  Dr.  Tansy  was  a  great  talker  and 
intensely  energetic  as  well.  He  never  tired  of  expa- 
tiating upon  the  many  claims  and  virtues  of  the  "Bo- 
tanic", or  as  he  termed  it,  "The  jRe-Form  System"  of 
medicine. 

But  ungainly  and  unattractive  as  was  Dr.  Tansy,  he 
had  for  a  wife  a  sweet,  comely  woman  who  had  the  es- 
teem and  respect  of  all  who  knew  her. 

Thus  it  was  the  easy-going  Dr.  Tartar  had  his  ener- 
getic, ambitious  wife  to  prod  him  up  and  make  him 
pull  up  his  end  of  the  professional  double-tree ;  and  the 
always  energetic,  over-zealous  and  always-talking  Dr. 
Tansy  had  a  wise,  tactful  and  popular  wife  to  smooth 
out  and  make  more  tolerable  her  husband's  shortcom- 
ings and  eccentricities. 

But  notwithstanding  the  domestic  influences  exerted 
upon  these  two  disciples  of  Aesculapius,  it  came  to  be 
a  saying  in  the  village  of  Prairiedge,  that  Dr.  Tartar 
was  all  right  if  you  could  ever  get  him,  and  that  on  the 
whole  Dr.  Tansy  was  well  enough  if  you  could  ever  get 
rid  of  him. 

As  time  went  by  it  came  about  that  about  half  the 
villagers  preferred  a  quiet,  self-poised,  still-tongued 
physician  who  stirred  up  their  livers  with  calomel,  loos- 
ened their  phlegm  with  tartar  emetic,  and  physicked 


128  A  Fair  Division 


them  with  Epsom  salts;  and  so  very  naturally  this  half 
of  the  community  employed  Dr.  Salmon  Tartar. 

The  other  half  preferred  an  energetic,  fussy,  talkative 
doctor,  who  sought  to  account  for  and  explain  every- 
thing, and  who  touched  up  their  livers  with  leptandrin, 
physicked  them  with  mandrake,  puked  them  with  lobe- 
lia and  loosened  their  phlegm  and  "iuards"  at  the  same 
time.  So  very  naturally  the  latter  half  of  the  Prairi- 
edgers  employed  Dr.  Tobias  Tansy. 

The  principal  diseases  these  doctors  had  to  contend 
with  were,  in  the  colder  season,  pneumonia,  commonly 
known  as  "winter  fever",  colds,  coughs,  and  an  occa- 
sional frost-bitten  limb.  In  the  warmer  season,  bowel 
troubles  of  various  kinds,  such  as  diarrhoea,  dysentery, 
usually  called  "bloody  flux",  "summer  complaint", 
cholera  morbus,  etc. 

"Summer  complaint"  was  the  warm  weather  disease 
that  most  affected  infants  and  was  often  fatal.  Im- 
proper food  was  in  most  instances  the  cause  of  cholera 
morbus  in  grown  people  and  "summer  complaint"  in 
children.  Violent  vomiting  attended  the  inception  of 
many  diseases. 

With  the  approach  of  the  fall  months  a  great  many 
were  stricken  with  "chills  and  fever",  which  certain 
ones  always  referred  to  as  "ager"  and  others  called 
"the  shakes".  Bilious  fever  was  another  form  of  ma- 
laria. Typhoid  fever  prevailed  to  an  extent  but  was 
never  called  by  that  name,  but  was  known  as  ' '  nervous 
fever",  "slow  fever",  "autumnal  fever",  etc. 

Among  accidents  were  broken  bones,  ax-cuts,  snake- 
bites, and  lacerated  wounds  from  various  causes  and 
an  occasional  bullet  wound. 

A  boy  or  girl  that  had  not  had  measles,  scarlet  fever, 


Some  Ailments  in  the  Fifties  129 

chicken-pox  and  whooping  cough  was  looked  upon  by 
his  or  her  associates  as  little  short  of  abnormal. 

Flies,  fleas,  bed  bugs  and  other  insects  doubtless 
spread  catching  diseases,  but  as  the  germ  theory  of  dis- 
ease was  as  yet  many  years  in  the  future,  no  one  ever 
so  much  as  dreamed  of  the  danger  which  these  pests 
might  have  in  store  for  humanity. 

At  times  real  Asiatic  cholera  would  claim  its  victims 
from  among  the  residents  of  the  village  and  surround- 
ing country.  When  this  disease  was  prevailing  as  an 
epidemic  some  one  would  visit  St.  Louis,  unfortunately 
contract  the  disease  and  later  give  it  to  others. 

My  kind  reader,  for  the  moment  I  am  going  to  take 
the  liberty  of  imagining  you  in  your  younger  years  and 
a  resident  of  Prairiedge  and  a  victim  of,  say  a  severe 
attack  of  chills  and  fever — so  severe,  in  fact,  that  your 
parents  decide  to  send  for  Dr.  Tansy.  One  of  Dr.  Tan- 
sy's virtues  was  prompt  response  to  professional  calls, 
and  consequently  it  was  not  long  till  that  worthy 
was  at  your  bedside.  He  feels  your  pulse,  looks  at 
your  tongue,  clasps  your  'forehead  with  his  long,  bony 
fingers,  and  meanwhile  has  a  great  deal  to  say  about 
your  foul  "stomic",  gorg'd  "bill-yary"  passages,  con- 
gested intes-tines  and  the  promptness  with  which  the 
".Ke-form  system  of  treatment  would  bring  relief.  He 
asserts  that  "lobely"  will  act  like  a  charm  in  your  case, 
and  straightway  gives  you  a  vomit  with  that  drug 
that  is  vastly  worse  than  the  disease  he  is  striving  to 
cure. 

Meantime  he  charges  your  mother  not  to  give  you  a 
drop  of  water  while  your  fever  is  up !  Next  he  observes 
that  some  doctors  give  quinine  in  such  troubles  but  that 
medicine  is  liable  to  "settle"  in  the  bones  and  should 


130  "  Tricks  in  All  Trades ' ' 

not  be  used.  Having  said  this  and  a  good  deal  more 
along  the  same  line,  Dr.  Tansy  puts  up  six  large  pow- 
ders that  you  are  to  take  three  hours  apart  till  all  are 
used.  As  the  medicine  is  known  to  be  very  bitter  your 
mother  decides  to  administer  it  in  baked  apple.  Ac- 
cordingly she  covers  a  spoon  with  a  layer  of  apple, 
puts  the  contents  of  one  paper  in  the  middle  of  this, 
and  spreads  over  all  another  layer  of  apple.  Then  she 
directs  you  to  swallow  all  at  one  gulp !  This  you  en- 
deavor to  do.  But  unfortunately  you  get  only  half  the 
apple  and  the  whole  of  the  bitter  taste  of  the  medicine, 
enhanced  by  the  acid  in  the  fruit.  This  experience 
makes  you  more  cautious  with  the  next  dose,  with  which 
you  are  more  fortunate,  and  in  the  end  you  manage  to 
get  down  all  the  powders. 

As  a  result  of  the  treatment  your  ague  was  broken 
and  you  and  your  parents  rejoice  in  Dr.  Tansy's  skill. 
But  alas  for  fallible  humanity !  for  after  reaching  man- 
hood you  learn  that  Dr.  Tansy's  blue  powders  were  a 
mixture  of  quinine  and  Prussian  blue! — that  the  qui- 
nine was  the  efficient  ingredient  and  that  the  Prussian 
blue  was  used  to  disguise  it  and  give  the  impression  that 
an  entirely  different  drug  was  being  used.  Thus  the 
uninitiated  were  led  to  believe  they  were  using  an 
equally  efficient  but  a  far  less  dangerous  drug  than 
quinine. 

Many  years  ago,  you,  my  imaginary  resident  of  Prai- 
riedge,  obeying  the  behests  of  fortune,  took  your 
leave  of  that  village ;  and  in  the  hard  battle  of  life  that 
you  were  compelled  to  wage  you  became  absorbed  in 
your  surroundings.  Meanwhile  the  months  run  into 
years,  the  years  into  decades,  the  decades  into  tens, 
twenties,  thirties,  forties,  when  one  day,  tired  of  the 


A  Mid-Nineteenth  Century  Ideal  Milk-Maid. 


Looking  Backward  131 

strife  and  turmoil,  the  memory  of  Prairiedge  and  the 
peaceful  associations  of  your  childhood  come  up  in 
perspective  and  seem  so  sweet  and  restful  that  you  find 
yourself  filled  with  a  longing  to  once  more  tread  the 
green  pastures,  stand  beside  the  laughing  waters  and 
loiter  for  a  time  in  the  land  that  gave  you  birth.  Finally 
this  longing  so  preys  upon  you  that  one  beautiful  morn- 
ing in  June  you  find  yourself  aboard  a  railway  train 
bound  for  Prairiedge.  Very  naturally,  for  the  time 
being  you  are  living  in  the  past,  and  as  you  look  down 
the  dim  perspective,  a  thousand  memories  crowd  your 
brain.  Prominent  among  these  is  the  memory  of  the 
old  times,  the  old  place  and  the  old  friends,  and  you 
recall  those  beautiful  lines  of  Dr.  Oliver  "Wendell 
Holmes : 

"There  is  no  time  like  the  old  time  when  you  and  I  were  young, 
When  the  buds  of  April  blossomed  and  the  birds  of  spring- 
time sung; 

The  garden's  brightest  glories  by  the  summer  suns  are  nursed, 
But  O,  the  sweet,  sweet  violets,  the  flowers  that  opened  first. 

i 

"There  is  no  place  like  the  old  place  where  you  and  I  were  born, 
Where  we  opened  first  our  eye-lids  on  the  splendors  of  the 

morn, 
From  the  milk-white  breast  that  warmed  us,  from  the  loving 

arms  that  bore 

Where  the  dear  eyes  glistened  o'er  us  that  shall  look  on  us  no 
more. 

"There  is  no   friend   like  the  old   friend  who  has   shared  our 

morning  days, 

No  greeting  like  his  welcome,  no  homage  like  his  praise ; 
Fame  is  the  senseless  sun-flower  with  gaudy  crown  of  gold, 
But  friendship  is  the  breathing-rose  with  sweets  in  every  fold." 


132  Some  Old  Friends 


Arrived  at  Prairiedge,  the  first  person  you  meet  in 
getting  off  the;  train  is  an  old  schoolmate  whom  you 
had  last  known  as  a  round-faced  boy  with  laughing 
bright  eyes.  But  now  he  is  a  gray-bearded,  dim-eyed 
grandfather.  With  this  old  schoolmate  you  go  over  the 
history  of  the  Prairiedgers  of  your  boyhood  days. 
You  are  pained  to  learn  that  whole  generations  of 
Browns,  Harneds,  Smiths,  Plamts,  Joneses,  and  aye,  of 
Johnsons,  have  found  their  last  and  final  home  in  the 
village  graveyard,  since  last  you  set  foot  on  the  cher- 
ished soil  of  Prairiedge. 

But  you  are  pleased  to  find  that  Dr.  Salmon  Tartar 
is  yet  living  and  a  resident  of  the  village  as  of  yore. 
His  wife,  whom  you  supposed  would  have  long  since 
tormented  the  life  out  of  her  husband,  you  learn,  died 
many  years  ago. 

Dr.  Tobias  Tansy,  too,  you  find  has  been  in  his  grave 
for  many  years,  but  his  sweet-tempered  wife,  after  the 
death  of  her  husband,  accepted  the  superintendency  of 
a  Home  for, the  Friendless  in  an  adjoining  county,  into 
whose  borders  had  gone  the  story  of  her  many  virtues. 

While  you  are  talking  a  fine,  hearty-looking  old  gen- 
tleman comes  along  the  street  who  you  learn  is  none 
other  than  Dr.  Salmon  Tartar.  You  approach  him, 
shake  hands,  fall  into  conversation  and  learn  that  he 
eats  well,  sleeps  well,  plays  with  his  grandchildren  and 
is  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  green  old  age  of  satisfaction 
and  contentment.  In  due  time  you  part  company  with 
this  fine  old  octogenarian  with  the  wish  that  he  could 
somehow  convey  to  the  world  his  secret  of  knowing  so 
well  ho\v  to  grow  old  gracefully. 

Having  thus  met  and  conversed  with  one  of  the  vil- 
lage doctors  of  your  childhood  days,  you  find  yourself 


"Physician,  Heal  Thyself"  133 

curious  to  learn  the  particulars  of  the  death  of  the 
other,  Dr.  Tobias  Tansy.  So  you  again  accost  your  old 
schoolmate  and  get  the  desired  information. 

It  seemed  that  in  the  month  of  March,  late  in  the 
fifties,  Dr.  Tansy  took  a  violent  cold  and  at  once  there 
rang  in  his  ears  the  scriptural  injunction,  "Physician, 
heal  thyself"!  So  at  five  o'clock  one  evening  he  soaked 
his  feet  in  warm  water,  drank  a  quart  of  Composition 
tea  and  went  to  bed.  Failing  to  get  relief  after  an  hour 
or  more  he  arose,  drank  a  saucerful  of  a  decoction  of 
red-pepper,  and  with  the  assistance  of  his  wife  took  a 
hot  steam  bath  from  an  infusion  of  catnip,  pennyroyal, 
horehound,  boneset,  tansy,  chamomile,  dogfennel,  smart- 
we^d  and  some  half-dozen  other  herbs.  Failing  to  get 
relief  from  the  steam  bath,  and  especially  failing  to 
sweat  as  freely  as  he  had  hoped  to  do,  the  patient  got 
out  of  bed,  stripped  off  his  clothing,  and  against  the 
earnest  protests  of  his  wife,  poured  a  bucket  of  ice- 
water  over  his  shoulders,  rubbed  himself  down  with  a 
coarse  towel,  and  ended  by  taking  a  teacupful  of  a 
strong  infusion  of  lobelia.  "There's  a  whole  lot  in  the 
.Ke-form  System  of  Medicine",  remarked  Dr.  Tansy  as 
he  once  more  sought  his  couch. 

Next  morning  he  was  found  dead  in  bed,  and  at  the 
coroner's  inquest,  held  a  few  hours  later,  Dr.  Tartar 
had  enough  of  the  true  milk  of  human  kindness  in  his 
make-up  to  assign  "heart-disease"  as  the  cause  of  death. 

At  last,  after  having  met  the  few  living  who  can  talk 
over  with  you  the  people  and  things  of  forty-odd  years 
before,  your  thoughts  turn  to  the  dead,  and  with  the 
thought  of  meeting  other,  though  sad,  reminders  of  the 
past,  you  direct  your  footsteps  toward  the  "burying- 
ground"  a  half-mile  north  of  the  village.  Surrounded 


134  God's  Acre 

by  a  rough  board  fence  upon  a  little  elevated  spot  in 
the  timber  is  this  God's-acre  of  the  good  people  of  your 
childhood,  and  as  you  approach  its  precincts  a  pair  of 
turtle  doves  are  cooing  mournfully  as  though  chanting 
a  solemn  dirge  for  the  dead.  The  enclosure  is  thickly 
sown  with  graves,  and  upon  the  stones  above  these  are 
many  names  familiar  to  your  eyes.  Among  the  rest 
one  slab  arrests  your  special  attention,  for  in  addition 
to  being  over  the  grave  of  an  old  acquaintance,  the  in- 
scription in  conciseness  and  pithiness  bears  the  ear- 
marks of  Dr.  Tartar.  You  approach  and  read,  "Ma- 
tilda Sweet,  wife  of  Dr.  Salmon  Tartar,  born  March 
18,  1815,  died  June  30,  1859".  And  below  this  sim- 
ple record  of  birth  and  death  are  just  two  words,  "She 
Sleeps!" 

Instinctively,  almost,  you  search  for  another  grave, 
and  at  last,  beneath  a  graceful  elm,  you  catch  a  glimpse 
of  an  old  white  marble  slab  with  rounded  top.  Pushing 
aside  the  weeds  and  briars  you  find  chiseled  into  the 
upper  part  of  the  stone  a  figure  of  a  weeping  willow, 
and  just  beneath  the  following:  "Sacred  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Dr.  Tobias,  Tansy.  Born  A.  D.  1810;  died  A.  D. 
1858.  For  many  years  an  enthusiastic  practitioner  of 
the  Botanic,  or  Re-Form  System  of  Medicine.  A  man 
of  forceful  character  who  fought  his  own  battles,  con- 
sistently took  his  own  medicine  and  died.  Peace  to  his 
ashes. ' ' 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

RAILROADS  AND  OTHER  METHODS  OF  TRAVEL  AND 
TRANSPORTATION. 

When  I  was  home  I  was  in  a  better  place — 
But  travelers  must  be  content. 

— Shakespeare. 

There  is  nothing -gives  a  man  such  spirits, 
Leavening  his  blood  as  cayenne  doth  a  curry, 
As  going  at  full  speed — no  matter  where  its 
Direction  be,  so  'tis  in  a  hurry — . 

— Byron. 

In  Illinois,  the  decade  of  the  fifties  was  an  era  of 
railroad  building,  surprising  in  extent  and  undreamed 
of  in  results. 

In  1850,  all  told  there  were  but  111  miles  of  railroads 
in  Illinois.  In  1860,  ten  years  later,  there  were  2,270 
miles.  Moreover,  the  111  miles  of  constructed  road  was 
deemed  of  so  little  value  that  in  1847,  twenty-four  miles 
of  this  between  Springfield  and  Jacksonville  was  sold 
for  $21,000,  about  one-tenth  of  first  cost. 

But  fortunately  for  all  concerned  with  the  coming  in 
of  the  second  half  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  railway 
construction  and  railway  management  came  to  be  bet- 
ter understood,  more  intelligently  put  through  and  more 
wisely  supervised;  and  in  consequence  men  of  affairs 
became  interested  in  railroading  and  capital  was  at- 
tracted. Fortunately,  too,  at  almost  the  psychological 
moment,  there  was  a  large  influx  of  the  precious  metal 
from  the  newly  discovered  gold  fields  of  California. 

(135) 


136  Some  Early  Railway  Lines 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  a  sort  of  fever 
for  railroad  construction  spread  over  the  whole  extent 
of  the  "Prairie  State",  as  Illinois  was  then  called. 
Among  the  roads  built  was  the  Illinois  Central  between 
Chicago  and  Cairo,  with  a  branch  extending  northwest 
from  Centralia  to  the  Mississippi  river  in  northern  Illi- 
nois. Senator  Douglas  did  very  much  in  causing  this 
road  to  be  a  reality,  but  the  late  William  S.  Wait  of 
Greenville,  Bond  County,  is  entitled  to  the  honor  of 
being  the  first  one  to  suggest  this  line  and  of  doing  it 
away  back  in  the  thirties. 

The  Wabash,  then  known  as  the  Toledo,  Wabash  and 
Western  R.  R.,  was  built  across  the  state  from  a  point 
opposite  Hannibal,  Missouri,  on  the  Mississippi  river, 
to  Indiana  and  on  east.  The  Ohio  and  Mississippi,  now 
the  Baltimore  and  Ohio,  was  built  east  from  St.  Louis 
through  the  state  and  on  to  Cincinnati.  The  Big  Four, 
then  the  Terre  Haute,  Alton  and  St.  Louis,  was  built 
between  the  cities  named.  The  Chicago  and  Alton  was 
built  between  these  two  cities  and  put  in  operation  in 
the  fifties;  the  line  from  Alton  to  St.  Louis  was  built 
during  the  Civil  War  in  the  early  sixties.  In  the  north- 
ern part  of  the  state  several  lines  were  constructed  that 
have  since  become  parts  of  extensive  systems.  Among 
these  may  be  named  the  Northwestern,  Burlington,  Bock 
Island,  and  Michigan  Central.  In  addition  other  lines 
'I  cannot  now  recall  were  built  and  at  once  put  in  suc- 
cessful operation.  Engines  and  passenger  cars  and  like- 
wise freight  cars  were  much  lighter  than  today ;  and 
sleeping  cars,  dining  cars  and  mail  cars  were  not  yet 
in  use.  Roadbeds  were  much  more  crooked  and  uneven 
than  today  and  never  rock-ballasted. 

In  addition  to  the  above  named  roads  work  was  done 


'The  Steam-Cars"  137 


on  many  other  lines  that  never  had  a  train  pass  over 
them.  This  was  for  the  reason  that  none  of  them  were 
finished;  indeed,  few  of  them  were  graded  only  in 
places.  In  that  period  wheelbarrows  and  shovels,  re- 
spectively, propelled  and  wielded  by  lusty  Irishmen, 
were  almost  the  sole  means  in  use  for  grading  road- 
beds. But  slow  and  tedious  as  was  this  method,  by 
means  of  it  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  miles  were 
graded  that  never  served  the  purpose  of  the  projectors 
and  was  left  to  be  slowly  worn  away  by  rain  and  flood. 

Nearly  every  town  and  village  had  its  one  or  more 
enthusiasts  for  a  railroad,  some  of  whom  were  destined 
to  be  only  dreamers  and  hence  never  permitted  to  see 
the  "iron  horse",  as  the  locomotive  was  then  called, 
whisk  through  the  hamlet,  other  than  in  imagination. 
But  in  localities  where  the  railroad  really  came,  every 
one's  countenance  beamed  with  satisfaction;  and  when 
the  first  train  pulled  in,  how  many  hearts  throbbed  the 
faster,  how  many  eyes  shone  the  brighter,  and  how  many 
eyes  for  the  first  time  looked  on  a  real  locomotive  and 
the  "steam-cars"  behind  it!  Then  when  by  good  for- 
tune certain  ones  were  permitted  to  enter  the  steam- 
cars  and  ride  behind  the  strange,  puffing  engine,  what 
an  indescribable  sensation!  How  fast  the  fence-posts 
and  trees  seemed  to  rush  by !  How  those  who  were  per- 
mitted to  ride  on  the  first  train  were  envied  by  their 
less  fortunate  neighbors! 

The  farmers  whose  homes  were  near  enough  to  see 
the  trains  rush  by  were  deemed  fortunate  in  being  per- 
mitted to  frequently  see  so  novel  a  sight.  Those  who 
were  further  away  would  watch  the  smoke  of  the  loco- 
motive and  listen  for  its  whistle.  On  a  certain  day, 
when  the  atmosphere  was  in  a  peculiar  state,  I  was  one 


138  Common  Modes  of  Travel 

of  a  party  of  several  persons  who  distinctly  heard  the 
whistle  of  a  locomotive  twelve  miles  away.  This  story 
sounds  ''fishy",  but  I  can  vouch  for  its  truth. 

So  much  for  the  railroads.  Now  a  brief  reference  to 
some  of  the  things  they  in  no  small  measure  superseded 
may  interest  the  reader. 

In  the  early  fifties  the  three  chief  means  of  travel 
were  on  horseback,  in  wagons  and  by  boat.  When  the 
road  to  be  gone  over  was  poor,  or  for  any  reason  unfit 
for  wheels,  the  saddle-horse  was  made  to  serve  a  most 
useful  purpose  and  was  ridden  by  both  men  and  women, 
the  latter  always  riding  on  a  side-saddle.  Any  woman 
who  would  have  ventured  to  ride  astride  would  then 
and  there  have  seriously  compromised  her  good  name. 

The  most  common  mode  of  travel,  especially  when  sev- 
eral members  of  the  family  needed  a  conveyance,  was 
the  two-horse  wagon  in  which  Windsor  or  split-bottom 
chairs  would  be  taken  from  the  house  and  placed  in  the 
wagon-bed.  The  average  farmer  thought  himself  well 
fixed  when  he  could  take  his  family  to  church  or  to 
town  in  a  spick-and-span,  newly  painted  two-horse 
wagon,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  well  groomed  and  neatly 
harnessed  pair  of  horses.  Occasionally  a  one-seated  ' '  top ' ' 
buggy  would  be  seen  on  the  road,  but  this  was  so  rare 
as  to  be  especially  noticeable.  Indeed,  a  buggy  in  that 
day  was  much  rarer  on  the  highway  than  is  today  a  ten- 
thousand-dollar  automobile. 

On  the  chief  thoroughfare  the  stage-coach,  drawn  by 
four  horses,  passed  each  way  daily.  Also  canvass-cov- 
ered  wagons  would  be  seen  slowly  moving  to  and  fro — 
•generally  to  and  from  the  distant  city  on  a  large  stream 
or  body  of  water  where  steamboat  traffic  was  available. 
Most  of  these  were  known  as  "market"  wagons  and  the 


"Marketers"  and  "Movers"  139 

driver  was  always  referred  to  as  a  "marketer".  Such 
wagons  were  always  loaded  with  produce  to  be  disposed 
of  in  the  city.  Maybe  it  was  a  load  of  hogs  in  a  strong 
hog-coop,  made  especially  for  the  purpose  and  which 
for  the  time  being  displaced  the  wagon-bed.  Maybe  it 
was  a  load  of  sheep  in  a  similar  coop.  Maybe  chickens, 
ducks,  geese  or  turkeys;  sometimes  all  four  and  all  in 
a  coop  devised  for  this  use. 

Sometimes  the  covered  wagon,  instead  of  containing 
hogs,  sheep  or  poultry  would  be  loaded  with  human 
live-stock — "movers" — all  seeking  that  always  beckon- 
ing, always-enticing,  better  country.  In  this  case  the 
mother,  girls  and  other  females  and  younger  children 
would  be  in  the  wagon,  where  the  lines  would  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  head  of  the  family,  and  the  boys  would  be 
on  foot  and  looking  after  the  milk-cows,  horses  and 
sometimes  hogs  that  were  driven  behind  the  wagon.  If 
the  weather  happened  to  be  warm,  one  or  more  panting 
dogs  with  their  tongues  lolling  out  would  be  under  the 
wagon  and  there  easily  keeping  pace  with  the  slowly 
moving  cavalcade.  When  night  came  on,  a  convenient 
camping  place  would  be  selected,  preferably  in  the  tim- 
ber near  a  spring,  or  stream.  Supper  would  be  cooked 
on  an  open  fire  made  by  always-easily  obtainable  wood. 
When  all  had  satisfied  their  hunger,  the  females  and 
smaller  children  would  lie  down  in  the  wagon  on  the 
feather  beds  always  taken  along.  Meantime  the  men 
would  spread  their  blankets  and  quilts  on  some  grassy 
spot  under  the  trees.  Thus  all  slept  in  the  open,  and  it 
is  not  hard  to  imagine  that  after  the  day's  adventures, 
all  eyes  were  soon  closed  and  all  cares  for  the  time  for- 
gotten. When  night  overtook  those  going  to  market 
they  nearly  always  camped  out  and  of  course  prepared 


I 
140  "Marketers"  and  "Movers" 

their  own  food  by  an  open  fire.  Corn  and  oats  and 
frequently  hay  were  taken  along  for  the  always  faithful 
horses. 

For  the  market  droves  of  fat  cattle  might  not  infre- 
quently be  seen  moving  along  in  the  care  of  men  on 
horses  aided  by  two  or  three  dogs.  Fat  hogs,  too,  were 
not  infrequently  taken  to  market  "on  foot",  as  the 
term  was.  Indeed,  where  a  farmer  had  a  goodly  num- 
ber this  was  the  only  way  to  move  them,  slow  as  was 
the  process.  In  that  day  hogs  had  much  longer  legs 
than  they  have  in  our  time,  otherwise  they  could  never 
have  made  the  long  trips  to  market. 

At  best  the  roads  were  poor,  bridges  were  always  made 
wholly  of  wood,  and  being  poorly  secured  in  place,  they 
not  infrequently  washed  away. 

As  to  water  privileges,  Illinois  was  especially  favored. 
On  the  whole  of  its  western  border  for  a  length  of  four 
hundred  miles  or  more  was  the  Mississippi  river ;  on  its 
southeastern  border  was  the  Ohio;  on  the  east  was  the 
Wabash;  on  the  northeastern  border  Lake  Michigan. 
Penetrating  its  western  and  northerly  limits  was  the 
Illinois;  and  in  its  interior  were  the  Okaw,  Kaskaskia, 
Sangamon  and  other  small  rivers,  all  when  high  navi- 
gable for  flatboats  and  other  small  craft.  On  the  Mis- 
sissippi and  Ohio  fine  river  packets  made  regular  trips 
and  carried  passengers  and  freight. 

Outside  the  larger  cities  banks  were  few  and  conse- 
quently people  for  the  most  part  kept  their  money  in 
their  homes,  and,  strange  to  say,  it  was  seldom  stolen. 
Cattle  buyers  and  others  who  had  to  have  considerable 
sums  of  money  put  it  in  a  belt  and  fastened  this  around 
them,  next  their  bodies  under  their  clothing.  In  the 
county  seats  and  considerable  towns  the  leading  mer- 


McCormick's   Combined   Reaper   and   Mower  of  Two  Genera- 
tions  Ago.      (See   page   11). 
(Courtesy  International  Harvester   Company) 


Cradles  and  Reaping-Hook  for  Cutting  Grain  and  Flails  for 

Threshing  it — All  displaced  in  the  50's  by  Machinery. 

(Loaned  by  0.  W.  Converse,  Springfield,  111.) 


"Foot-Pad"  141 

chant  would  act  as  a  sort  of  banker  for  his  patrons  by 
keeping  their  money  in  his  "strong-box". 

In  that  period,  much  more  frequently  than  today, 
men  walked  to  and  fro,  and  thus  traveled  through  the 
country.  Working  men  when  going  any  distance  nearly 
always  carried  a  stout  stick  or  cane  over  one  shoulder, 
to  the  rear  end  of  which  was  attached  a  small  bundle 
of  clothes  tied  up  in  a  red  handkerchief.  Not  infre- 
quently a  man  would  be  met  on  the  road  whose  every 
look  and  action  told  the  story  that  he  was  a  "foot-pad", 
or  what  we  of  today  call  a  tramp. 

Words,  terms,  customs,  outward  appearances  change, 
but  at  bottom  man  is  always  much  the  same. 


CHAPTEE   XV. 

ELECTIONS,  PARTIES  AND  POLITICS. 

Where  village  statesmen  talked  with  looks  profound 
And  news  much  older  than  their  ale  went  round. 

— Goldsmith^ 

The  seals  of  office  glitter  in  his  eyes ; 
He  climbs,  he  pants,  he  grasps  them. 

— Cow  per. 

The  first  election  I  recall  was  held  in  the  fall  of  1852, 
when  General  Scott  ran  for  President.  Elections  in  my 
childhood  were  one  of  the  few  things  that  served  to 
bring  to  the  village  all  of  the  men  from  the  surrounding 
farms,  and  among  these  were  sure  to  be  two  or  three 
neighborhood  " bullies"  who  at  such  times  were  almost 
always  "spoiling  for  a  fight".  Whisky  in  those  days 
could  be  obtained  by  the  jug  as  easily  as  molasses  can 
now,  and  with  a  "few  drinks  ahead"  the  bully  was 
ready  and  anxious  to  get  in  a  fist-fight.  These  fights 
were  not  always  confined  to  the  fists,  for  sometimes 
those  engaged  would  bite  and  scratch  like  cats;  and 
worst  of  all,  attempt  to  "gouge"  out  an  eye.  I  knew 
one  man  who  had  his  thumb  nearly  bitten  off  in  one 
of  these  election-day  fights.  However,  in  most  instances 
officers  of  the  law  and  good  citizens  managed  to  part 
the  contestants  before  anything  more  serious  resulted 
than  bloody  noses. 

Substantially  all  the  elections  occurred  in  the  fall 
season  when  apples  were  ripe  and  cider-making  was  on, 
and  consequently  cider  could  nearly  always  be  had  on 
(142) 


"Don't  Owe  You  Nuthin'  >  143 

election  day.  Usually  it  was  sold  with  ginger-bread, 
which  was  baked  in  large  iron  pans  and  cut  in  pieces 
about  the  size  of  one's  hand  which  sold  at  five  cents 
each,  and  a  large  glass  of  cider  sold  at  the  same  price. 
A  certain  stand  where  cider  and  ginger-bread  were  sold 
is  responsible  for  the  following: 

A  stranger  walked  up  to  the  stand  and  said  to  the 
proprietor : 

"Say,  mister,  give  me  a  piece  of  ginger-bread."  The 
proprietor  did  as  requested  and  the  stranger,  after  eye- 
ing his  prospective  purchase  for  a  minute,  said: 

"Mister,  would  you  mind  takin'  this  ginger-bread 
back  and  givin'  me  a  glass  of  cider?"  Again  the  oblig- 
ing proprietor  did  as  requested.  The  stranger  drank 
the  glass  of  cider  at  one  gulp,  and  turning  on  his  heel 
started  off.  The  proprietor  called  to  him  and  said : 

"Say,  stranger,  you  forgot  to  pay  me  for  that  cider." 

"Don't  owe  you  nuthin',"  answered  the  stranger. 

"Why,  how's  that?"  inquired  the  proprietor. 

"Giv  yu  the  ginger-bread  fur  it,"  was  the  prompt 
response. 

"Well,  then,  pay  me  for  the  ginger-bread,"  suggested 
the  proprietor. 

"Why,  yu'v  got  the  ginger-bread!"  was  the  stran- 
ger's answer. 

"So  I  have,"  acknowledged  the  proprietor,  "but  I 
believe  in  the  mix-up  I  have  somehow  been  cheated." 

In  1852  General  Scott  was  the  Whig  candidate  and 
Franklin  Pierce  the  Democratic  candidate  for  President. 
I  was  too  young  to  know  anything  about  parties,  but  I 
remember  hearing  older  persons  say  the  Whigs  would 
never  again  run  a  presidential  ticket;  and  it  turned  out 
that  they  never  did. 


144  The  Maine-Law 


The  Whig  party  was  succeeded  by  the  American 
party,  which  was  popularly  known  as  the  Know-Noth- 
ing  party.  This  was  a  secret  organization  with  grips, 
signs,  etc.;  and  it  is  said  that  when  outsiders  tried  to 
find  out  about  the  organization  from  its  members  the 
reply  was  always,  "I  know  nothing  about  it".  Hence 
the  origin  of  the  popular  name  for  this  party.  When 
a  boy  I  remember  reading  a  book  called  "The  Know- 
Nothing",  written  I  suppose  in  the  interest  of  the  party 
of  that  name.  Some  of  the  tenets  of  this  organization 
were  opposition  to  the  Catholic  Church  and  insistence 
that  America  should  be  ruled  by  Americans.  This  or- 
ganization turned  out  to  be  a  political  mushroom;  it 
loomed  up,  increased  rapidly  in  its  following,  and  in 
three  or  four  years  went  out  of  existence.  For  a  time 
the  Know-Nothings  carried  our  county,  but  none  of  my 
relatives  of  voting  age  were  ever  its  adherents. 

During  the  winter  of  1854-5  the  Illinois  Legislature 
passed  an  Act  forbidding  the  sale  and  manufacture  of 
intoxicants,  to  take  effect  when  ratified  by  the  suffrages 
of  the  legal  voters  of  the  state.  This  act  was  almost  an 
exact  duplicate  of  one  which  had  been  adopted  in  the 
State  of  Maine,  and  hence  it  came  to  be  popularly 
known  as  the  "Maine-law".  The  date  fixed  upon  for 
the  voters  to  decide  whether  the  Maine-law  should  or 
should  not  be  adopted  in  the  Prairie  State  was  June 
17,  1855.  Although  not  yet  twelve  years  of  age  I  was 
much  interested  in  this  campaign.  Doubtless  this  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  while  not  avowed  prohibitionists, 
yet  all  my  adult  relatives  were  its  ardent  supporters. 
In  the  rural  communities  this  proposed  law  found  its 
most  earnest  advocates  among  preachers,  teachers,  re- 
formers and  all  who  were  in  favor  of  a  general  moral 


Lager  Beer  in  the  50  's  145 

and  social  uplift.  On  the  other  hand,  all  who  made  use 
of  intoxicants  in  any  form  were  stoutly  arrayed  against 
it.  From  my  home  in  Pocahontas,  Bond  County,  I  one 
day  accompanied  Uncle  Benjamin  Johnson,  a  strong, 
forceful  man  and  a  warm  temperance  advocate,  on  a 
trip  to  Highland,  Madison  County.  In  that  day  High- 
land was  almost  as  German  as  Berlin,  though  in  the 
town  and  country  surrounding  was  a  liberal  sprinkling 
of  Swiss  and  French;  in  a  word,  the  population  was 
almost  wholly  'foreign,  and  to  say  that  they  were  all 
dead-set  against  the  Maine-law  only  expresses  the  naked 
truth. 

When  we  got  to  Highland  we  found  great  crowds  of 
people  and  three  or  four  speakers  on  as  many  rostrums, 
addressing  groups  of  attentive  auditors  and  punctuat- 
ing every  word  with  an  emphatic  gesture.  What  these 
words  were  we  were  left  to  guess,  for  everything  spoken 
was  in  the  German  language.  However,  we  knew  that 
practically  every  argument  that  by  hook  or  crook  could 
be  marshalled  against  the  Maine-law  and  its  believed- 
to-be  fanatical  advocates,  was  being  driven  home  with 
vehement  force  and  energy. 

On  the  grounds,  but  at  a  supposedly  proper  distance 
from  the  speakers,  an  old  cannon,  a  rusty, "  discarded 
field-piece,  was  fired  as  fast  as  it  could  be  loaded.  Mean- 
while beer  was  on  tap  at  a  number  of  stands  and,  save 
my  uncle  and  myself,  practically  every  man  drank  to 
his  fill.  To  us  this  was  all  novel,  for  in  that  day  beer- 
drinking  had  not  as  yet  become  common. 

At  last  the  seventeenth  day  of  June  came ;  a  day  that 
was  cool  and  cloudy  and  which  I  recall  distinctly  for  I 
dropped  corn  from  sun-up  until  sun-down.  Had  I  been 
old  enough  to  vote  I  should  certainly  have  cast  my  bal- 


146  Political  Pot  Boiling 

lot  for  the  Maine-law  as  all  my  uncles  did  and  as  I  felt 
sure  my  father  would  have  done  had  he  been  alive.  But 
notwithstanding  the  work,  hopes  and  prayers  of  the 
many  who  favored  the  Maine-law  it  was  defeated  by  a 
large  majority  and  the  now  almost  forgotten  effort  to 
make  Illinois  a  prohibition  state  in  the  50 's  promptly 
became  a  thing  of  the  past. 

The  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  in  1854  set 
the  political  pot  to  boiling  in  earnest  and  it  was  the  one 
thing  of  all  others  that  led  to  the  formation  of  the  Re- 
publican party;*  an  organization  at  its  inception  made 
up  of  voters  from  all  parties  who  had  one  thing  in  com- 
mon, namely  dread  of  the  threatened  encroachments  of 
slavery. 

The  Compromise  and  all  connected  with  it  was 
uppermost  in  everyone's  thought  and  the  village  states- 
men never  seemed  to  tire  of  discussing  it.  One  old  fel- 
low always  referred  to  it  as  the  Com-prom-ise  Line  and 
he  also  called  the  president,  Buke-hanan.  In  the  minds 
of  some  the  Compromise  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  fence 
which  kept  slavery  from  crossing  the  line  36°  30'.  I 
recall  one  speaker  who  took  advantage  of  this  idea  and 
said,  "Yes,  fellow  citizens,  the  Compromise  which  our 
Democratic  friends  have  just  torn  away  was  a  fence, 
not  an  ordinary  fence,  but  a  fence  that  was  horse-high, 
bull-strong  and  pig-tight  I"  As  most  of  the  speaker's 
audience  were  farmers,  his  argument  was  by  them 
deemed  unanswerable. 

In  1856  there  were  three  presidential  tickets  in  the 
field:  the  Democrats  brought  out  Buchanan  and  Breck- 


*The    name    Republican   as   a   party   name    was    first    made 
use  of  at  a  convention  held  July  6,  1854,  at  Jackson,  Michigan. 


'Black"  Republican  147 


enridge ;  the  Republicans  Freemont  and  Dayton  and  the 
Know-Nothings  Filmore  and  Donnelson.  This  was  the 
first  and  last  time  the  Know-Nothing  or  American  party 
appeared  in  a  presidential  election.  The  Republican 
party  had  only  been  in  existence  a  year  or  two  and 
consequently  Freemont  and  Dayton  were  its  first  can- 
didates for  president  and  vice-president  respectively. 
In  that  campaign  a  popular  slogan  with  the  Republicans 
was  ".FVee-people,  free-speech,  free-labor,  free-soil  and 
Fremont".  As  Fremont  wore  a  heavy  beard,  then  a 
new  thing,  he  was  by  his  opponents  called  the  "woolly- 
hoss."  Furthermore,  some  of  these  opponents  always 
derisively  said  Black  Republican  when  referring  to  the 
Fremont  ticket. 

In  that  day  almost  every  community  raised  a  flag- 
pole for  favorite  candidates.  For  this  purpose  a  straight 
hickory  pole  forty  or  fifty  feet  in  length  would  be 
brought  in  from  the  nearby  timber  and  a  hole  dug  for 
the  reception  of  its  larger  end,  usually  about  eight 
inches  in  diameter.  Meantime  a  new  national  flag  was 
lettered  with  the  names  of  the  desired  candidates  for 
president  and  vice-president  respectively.  Finally  on 
an  appointed  day  the  partisans  of  these  candidates 
would  congregate,  raise  the  pole  to  its  place,  fill  in  the 
dirt  around  its  base,  run  up  the  flag  and  give  three 
rousing  cheers  for  Freemont,  Buchanan,  or  Filmore  as 
the  case  required.  Sometimes  short  speeches  and  ap- 
propriate songs  were  an  accompaniment  of  the  "pole- 
raising.  ' ' 

Perhaps  in  the  following  week  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street  a  second  pole  would  be  raised  for  other 
candidates,  indeed  in  some  cases  no  less  than  three  poles 


148  "An  Old  Public  Functionary" 

could  be  seen  in  the  same  village,  each  one  floating  a 
partisan  flag. 

Buchanan  was  an  elderly  man  and  his  friends  were 
fond  of  referring  to  him  as  an  "Old  Public  Function- 
ary"; this  because  he  had  long  held  office  and  with 
credit  to  himself  had  been  United  States  Senator,  Sec- 
retary of  State  and  Minister  to  England. 

The  election  in  1856  came  on  a  cold,  raw,  rainy  day, 
the  kind  which  my  elders  said  always  favored  the  Dem- 
ocrats. Be  this  as  it  may,  the  Democrats  carried  the 
day  and  on  March  4,  1857,  Buchanan  was  inaugurated 
President  of  the  United  States  and  continued  in  office 
till  four  years  later  he  was  succeeded  by  that  Illinoisian 
among  Illinoisians,  Abraham  Lincoln. 


Type  of  Frame  House  Common  in  the  Late  50's. 


\\      '     ' 


Bedstead,  Trundlebed  and   Some  Articles  of  Every  Day  Use. 
(Loaned  by  O.  W.  Converse,  Springfield,  111.) 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
SLAVERY  AND  THE  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATE. 

Slavery  is  a  blessing  established  by  God's  decree  and  sanc- 
tioned by  the  Bible  from  Genesis  to  Revelations. — Jefferson  Davis. 

We  now  know  that  slavery  was  a  gigantic  mistake,  and  that 
Emerson  was  right  when  he  said,  "One  end  of  the  slave's  chain 
is  always  riveted  to  the  wrist  of  the  master." — Gen.  John  B. 
Gordon,  (C.  S.  A.) 

The  incurability  of  the  evil  is  one  of  the  greatest  objections 
to  the  extension  of  slavery. — Thomas  Benton. 

Slaves  in  a  land  of  light  and  law; 
Slaves  crouching  on  the  very  plains 
Where  roll'd  the  storm  of  freedom's  war. 

— Whittier. 

On  March  1,  1845,  three  days  before  the  close  of  Pres- 
ident Tyler's  administration  by  joint  resolution  of  the 
two  houses  of  Congress,  Texas  was  annexed  to  the  United 
States — an  event  that  proved  to  be  far-reaching  in  its 
consequences.  Indeed,  it  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to 
say  that  this  was  the  first  Act  in  a  great  drama  upon 
which  the  curtain  rose  not  to  go  down  till  Lee  surren- 
dered at  Appomattox,  twenty  years  later.  At  the  period 
of  the  Texas  annexation  the  Southern  slave-holders  were 
at  the  very  zenith  of  their  power  and  with  high-handed 
determination  were  bent  on  effecting  the  greatest  possi- 
ble extension  of  slavery.  Moreover,  in  striving  to  ac- 
complish their  purposes  they  were  so  energetic,  so  per- 
sistent and  so  dominant  that  all  else  was  made  to  seem 
insignificant  by  comparison.  Impressed  with  this  state 

(149) 


150  War  With  Mexico 

of  affairs,  Lord  Macaulay  said  in  the  British  Parliament, 
"That  Nation  (the  United  States)  is  the  champion  and 
upholder  of  slavery.  They  (the  people  of  the  U.  S.) 
seek  to  extend  slavery  with  more  energy  than  was  ever 
exerted  by  any  nation  to  diffuse  civilization." 

In  1822,  while-  Texas  was  yet  a  part  of  Mexico,  the 
latter  country  abolished  slavery  throughout  its  whole  ex- 
tent. But  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Texas  had  thus 
become  free  soil,  emigrants  from  our  Southern  States 
went  thither  and  carried  with  them  their  slaves  and 
kept  them  in  bondage. 

In  1836  the  inhabitants  of  Texas  declared  their  inde- 
pendence of  Mexico  and  organized  a  Republic.  This 
action  on  the  part  of  Texas  resulted  in  war  between  that 
country  and  Mexico  which  in  one  form  or  another,  con- 
tinued till  the  former  was  annexed  to  the  United  States, 
nine  years  later. 

During  the  whole  time  that  the  Texas  annexation 
scheme  was  under  consideration,  Mexico  was  on  the 
alert  and  keenly  alive  to  the  situation;  and  no  sooner 
had  President  Tyler  signed  the  joint  resolution  than 
the  Mexican  Minister  at  Washington  asked  for  his  pass- 
ports and  left  for  his  own  country. 

On  March  4,  1845,  James  K.  Polk  succeeded  John 
Tyler  in  the  presidential  chair,  where  one  of  his  chief 
inheritances  was  our  strained  relations  with  Mexico. 
But  instead  of  endeavoring  to  pour  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters — instead  of  striving  to  modify  and  ameliorate 
our  strained  relations  he,  in  a  few  months,  sent  an 
"Army  of  Occupation"  to  the  Mexican  border  and 
ordered  a  strong  fleet  to  take  position  at  Vera  Cruz  and, 
as  was  doubtless  intended,  war  with  Mexico  was  the  re- 
sult. A  war  that  lasted  through  1846-7  and  ended  early 


Gold  and  Free-State  Emigration  151 

in  1848  when  a  treaty  of  peace  was  made  between  the 
two  countries  and  our  late  enemy  ceded  to  us  California 
and  New  Mexico,  and  acquiesced  in  our  possession  of 
Texas. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  John  Tyler,  a  southern  presi- 
dent, aided  and  abetted  by  Southern  leaders,  brought 
about  the  annexation  of  Texas ;  and  James  K.  Polk,  an- 
other Southern  president,  aided  and  abetted  by  South- 
ern leaders,  precipitated  this  country  into  a  war  with 
Mexico — all  to  extend  the  area  of  slave-labor.  But, 

"There  is  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  may." 

„  The  Southerners  had  certainly  "rough-hewn"  their 
"ends",  but  a  "divinity",  which  had  in  no  sense  en- 
tered into  their  calculations,  was  destined  to  "shape" 
them.  This  last  came  about  in  consequence  of  the  dis- 
covery of  gold  in  California  in  large  quantities  and  the 
resulting  great  emigration  to  that  New  El  Dorado.  Most 
of  the  -emigrants,  however,  were  from  the  free  States,  a 
fact  that  had  a  direct  bearing,  two  years  later,  when  Cal- 
ifornia applied  for  admission  in  the  Union  as  a  free 
State.  That  California,  a  part  of  the  domain  which  the 
slave  holders  had  regarded  as  peculiarly  their  own, 
should  apply  for  admission  as  a  free  State  aroused  the 
ire  of  Southern  leaders  and  as  a  result  there  occurred, 
between  the  foes  and  friends  of  slavery,  one  of  the  long- 
est and  most ,  acrimonious  discussions  in  our  history ; 
and  the  Southerners,  as  had  become  their  habit,  threat- 
ened to  break  up  the  Union. 

At  this  period  Clay,  Calhoun  and  Webster,  were  all 
in  the  United  States  Senate  and  each  bore  a  conspicuous 
part  in  the  long-drawn-out  discussion  following  the  pro- 


152  The  "Omnibus"  BUI 

posed  admission  of  California.  Indeed,  this  proved  to 
be  their  last  conspicuous  service  in  the  Senate,  where 
for  many  years  the  mere  word  of  each  carried  almost 
the  weight  of  law.  They  were  known  as  the  great  ' '  Tri- 
umvirate" and  the  upper  House  of  Congress  never  be- 
fore and  never  since  knew  their  equals.  Henry  Clay, 
long  a  Senator  from  Kentucky,  although  a  slave  owner, 
recognized  the  many  evils  of  the  peculiar  institution 
and  hoped  for  the  day  when  it  would  be  abolished.  Web- 
ster, the  great  Senator  from  Massachusetts,  through  the 
whole  of  his  life  was  opposed  to  slavery.  Calhoun,  who 
through  the  most  of  his  public  career  represented  South 
Carolina  in  the  National  Senate,  was  a  defender  of 
slavery  and  looked  upon  it  as  only  a  little  short  of  a 
divine  institution.  Clay  and  Webster  were  devoted  to 
the  union  of  the  States,  and  for  this  were  ready  to  sac- 
rifice anything  but  principle.  Calhoun,  on  the  contrary, 
held  the  peculiar  interests  of  the  Southern  slaveholding 
States  beyond  and  above  the  Union.  He  loved  the  Union 
perhaps,  but  the  South  vastly  more. 

When  the  discussion  over  the  admission  of  California 
had  reached  a  stage  of  white  heat,  Clay,  who  had  come 
to  be  known  as  the  great  "compromiser",  sought  to  pour 
oil  on  the  troubled  waters  by  introducing  a  number  of 
measures  in  the  way  of  compromise,  which  later  came  to 
be  known  as  the  "omnibus"  bill.  In  effect  these  pro- 
vided that  California  should  be  immediately  admitted; 
that  the  slave-trade  should  be  abolished  in  the  District 
of  Columbia ;  that  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  District 
of  Columbia  be  deemed  not  advisable ;  that  the  Territory 
of  New  Mexico  be  organized,  etc. 

In  support  of  these  measures  Clay  made  a  speech  that 
occupied  the  greater  part  of  two  days  and  in  this  he 


Webster's  Seventh  of  March  Speech  153 

brought  to  bear  all  his  gifts  of  eloquence  and  all  his  in- 
fluence and  varied  powers  of  persuasion.  Calhoun  pre- 
pared a  carefully  written  speech,  but  as  he  was  in  poor 
health  and  very  weak,  this  was  read  in  the  Senate  by 
Senator  Mason  of  Virginia.  That  Calhoun 's  speech  was 
able,  masterly  and,  from  his  viewpoint,  logical,  need  not 
be  said.  But  in  a  sense  it  was  the  "song  of  the  dying 
swan";  for  in  less  than  four  weeks,  namely,  on  March 
31,  1850,  that  great  apostle  of  Southern  rights  and  life- 
long defender  and  eulogist  of  African  slavery,  breathed 
his  last. 

Three  days  subsequent  to  the  reading  of  Calhoun 's 
address,  Webster  delivered  in  the  U.  S.  Senate  his  fa- 
mous Seventh  of  March  speech  which  was  both  a  reply  to 
Calhoun  and  an  earnest  plea  for  the  adoption  of  Clay's 
compromise  measures.  Webster's  speech  on  this  occa- 
sion was  a  bitter  disappointment  to  most  of  his  life-long 
friends.  Among  the  latter  was  the  poet  Whittier  who 
gave  vent  to  his  feelings  by  writing  Ichabod ! 

"So  fallen  !     So  lost !   the  light  withdrawn 

Which  once  he  wore ! 
The  glory  gone  from  his  gray  hairs 

Forever  more ! 
Of  all  we  loved  and  honored,  naught 

Save  power  remains : 
A  fallen  angel's  pride  of  thought 

Still  strong  in  chains." 

In  his  speech  Webster  advocated  a  stronger  fugitive 
slave-law  and  apologized  for  and,  in  a  sense,  justified 
the  institution  of  slavery  and  for  this  many  of  his  old 
friends  never  forgave  him.  In  extenuation  it  may  be 
said  that  he  believed  the  Union  was  in  danger  of  disso- 
lution, and  this  danger  appealed  to  him,  as  nothing  else 


154  "There  Were  Giants  in  Those  Days" 

could;  for  while  he  loved  freedom,  he  loved  the  Union 
more. 

In  the  end  California  came  in  the  Union  as  a  free 
State,  the  fugitive  slave-law  was  made  stronger,  the  Ter- 
ritory Of  New  Mexico  was  organized,  and,  indeed,  sub- 
statntially  all  of  Clay's  measures  were  adopted.  How- 
ever, these  were  adopted  singly  and  not  in  the  "omni- 
bus" bill  as  was  Clay's  first  proposal. 

The  death  of  both  Clay  and  Webster  occurred  in  1852, 
two  years  after  that  of  Calhoun.  The  passing  of  these 
great  men  marked  the  end  of  an  era,  the  one  which  im- 
mediately followed  that  of  the  Revolution.  Washing- 
ton, John  Adams,  Hamilton,  Jefferson  and  Madison  were 
representatives  of  the  Revolutionary  era  as  Clay,  Ben- 
ton,  Webster  and  Calhoun  were  of  that  immediately  fol- 
lowing. All  of  these  great  men,  save  Calhoun,  knew  the 
evils  of  slavery,  were  opposed  to  its  further  extension, 
and  hoped  for  its  ultimate  extinction. 

Calhoun,  the  great  apostle  of  Southern  rights,  had  not 
a  few  things  in  common  with  Webster,  the  eloquent  ad- 
vocate of  a  permanent  and  indissoluble  Union.  Both 
were  born  in  1782.  Both  were  intellectual  giants.  Both 
were  gifted  orators  who  clothed  their  thoughts  in  clear, 
terse  English.  Both  had  logical  minds  and  both  were 
disposed  to  probe  a  subject  to  its  ultimate  depths.  But 
here  the  similarity  ended  and  divergence  begins;  Cal- 
houn hailed  from  South  Carolina  and  was  the  idol  of 
the  Slave  Power.  Webster  came  from  Massachusetts 
and  voiced  the  sentiment  of  liberty-loving  New  England. 
Calhoun  asserted  the  divine  right  of  property  in  man 
and  urged  the  necessity  of  slave  labor.  Webster  pro- 
claimed the  elevating  tendency  of  free  institutions  and 
the  sufficiency  and  dignity  of  free  labor.  Calhoun  ex- 


Freedom  Versus  Slavery  155 

amined  the  theory  of  our  government,  came  to  believe 
in  the  sovereignty  of  the  States,  and  thought  the  Union 
only  a  compact.  Webster  delved  yet  deeper  in  the  sci- 
ence of  government,  searched  our  early  National  history, 
studied  the  constitution,  and  proclaimed  the  wisdom, 
glory  and  perpetuity  of  the  Union.  Calhoun  favored 
slavery  and  the  Union  if  practicable,  but  upheld  the 
South  and  its  interests  at  all  hazards.  Webster  plead 
for  the  prevalence  of  free  institutions,  but  above  all  else 
stood  for  the  Union.  Calhoun 's  tenets  were  the  shifting 
sands  upon  which  later,  the  ruins  of  the  "lost  cause" 
were  destined  to  lie  scattered  in  hopeless  confusion.  Web- 
ster's teachings  were  the  immovable  Rock  upon  which 
were  laid  the  enduring  foundations  of  what  is  today  our 
National  Union. 

Meanwhile  a  third  generation  of  Statesmen  had  come 
to  the  front  who,  as  representative  of  their  several  con- 
stituencies, were  by  no  means  as  conservative  on  the 
slavery  question  as  were  most  of  the  leaders  who  pre- 
ceded them.  Seward,  Chase,  Summer,  Wade,  Thadeus 
("Thad"),,  Stevens  and  others  from  the  North,  as  rad- 
ically opposed  the  further  advance  of  slavery  as  the 
extension  of  that  institution  was  earnestly  advocated  by 
Jefferson  Davis,  Toombs,  Foote,  Yancey,  Benjamin  and 
Alexander  H.  Stevens  of  the  newer  and  more  radical 
South  that  knew  not  Benton  and  Clay.  But  notwith- 
standing the  sharp  differences  of  these  men,  after  the 
admission  of  California  and  the  coincident  compromise 
legislation  of  1850,  the  excitement  and  agitation  on  the 
slavery  question  for  the  time  died  awajr;  so  that  when 
in  1853  President  Pierce  was  inaugurated,  he  congratu- 
lated the  country  upon  the  peaceful  and  quiet  state  of 
the  public  mind  and  more  especially  on  the  happy,  and 


156  Missouri  Compromise 

as  he  believed,  permanent  settlement  of  all  differences 
on  the  slavery  question.  But  these  pacific  appearances 
were  but  a  lull  in  the  storm  that  was  to  again  break  upon 
the  country — a  storm  that  was  destined  to  come  with  re- 
newed energy,  burst  with  terrific  force  and  envelope  the 
whole  land  till  the  political  atmosphere  was  forever 
cleared  of  that  poisonous  taint — slavery. 

This  storm  fell  upon  the  country  when  on  May  30, 
1854,  less  than  fifteen  months  after  President  Pierce 's 
prediction  that  the  slavery  question  had  been  perma- 
nently settled,  the  Missouri  Compromise  was  repealed 
after  a  long  and  bitter  discussion  in  which  Senator 
Stephen  A.  Douglas,  prime  mover  in  the  matter,  bore  a 
leading  part. 

Here  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  say  that  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise  became  the  law  of  the  land  in  1820, 
and  by  its  provisions  African  slavery  was  forbidden  to 
go  north  of  the  line,  36°,  30'.  By  the  Free  State  men, 
the  Missouri  Compromise  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  a 
sort  of  bulwark  against  the  northward  encroachments  of 
slavery,  consequently,  when  under  the  lead  of  Senator 
Douglas  this  compact  was  repealed  there  was  great  in- 
dignation and  excitement  throughout  the  whole  of  the 
Northern  States.  The  slavery  question  was  in  every 
one's  mind  and  like  Banquo's  ghost  would  not  down. 
Every  village,  every  hamlet,  indeed,  almost  every  cross- 
roads became  a  center  for  the  consideration  and  discus- 
sion of  this  burning  issue. 

Speaking  of  the  animus  of  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri 
Compromise  Senator  Chase  of  Ohio  said :  ' '  It  is  slavery 
that  renews  the  strife.  It  is  slavery  that  again  wants 
room.  It  is  slavery  with  its  insatiate  demand  for  more 
territory  and  more  Slave  States.  And  what  does  slavery 


Horace  Greely  and  The  New  York  Tribune      157 

ask  for  now?  Why,  sir,  it  demands  that  a  sacred  and 
time-honored  compact  shall  be  rescinded — a  compact 
which  has  been  universally  regarded  as  inviolable  north 
and  south — a  compact  by  which  all  have  consented  to 
abide." 

The  New  York  Tribune  was  the  recognized  organ  of 
the  Free  Soilers  and,  as  elsewhere  said,  its  publisher, 
Horace  Greely,  was  then  in  the  very  prime  of  his  power 
as  a  great  newspaper  editor.  It  seemed  to  be  his  especial 
delight  to  show  up  the  almost  innumerable  evils  of 
slavery  and  likewise  the  many  unworthy  aims  and  mis- 
deeds of  the  slaveholders.  Practically  all  the  Free  Soil- 
ers, in  what  is  today  the  Middle  West  (then  the  West), 
were  subscribers  to,  and  close  and  careful  readers  of 
Greely 's  Tribune.  Upon  not  a  few  this  paper  made  such 
a  deep  impression  that  they  came  to  rate  it  next  to  the 
Bible.  On  the  other  hand  no  words  would  suffice  to  ex- 
press the  contempt  and  hate  felt  in  some  quarters  for 
Greely 's  organ. 

Coincident  with  the  repeal  of  the  Compromise  the  Ter- 
ritories of  Kansas  and  Nebraska  were  organized.  Des- 
perate efforts  were  made  by  the  South  to  people  Kansas 
with  inhabitants  favorable  to  slavery.  But  the  North 
was  equally  determined  that  freedom  should  have  a  voice 
on  the  broad  prairies  of  that  virgin  land,  and  hence 
emigrants  poured  in  from  the  Free  State  much  faster 
than  they  possibly  could  from  the  South.  But  what  the 
Slave  Power  failed  to  win  fairly  was  sought  to  be  secured 
by  usurpation :  And  when  the  first  election  for  a  Terri- 
torial legislature  was  held,  hordes  of  Missouri  residents 
went  over  into  Kansas,  took  possession  of  the  ballot  boxes 
at  many  of  the  voting  places,  and  thus  sought  to  turn 
everything  in  the  interests  of  slavery.  It  was  under  these 


158  A  Fraudulent  Election 

circumstances  that  six  thousand  votes  were  cast,  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  the  legal  votes  of  Kansas 
numbered  less  than  three  thousand.  Strange  to  say, 
these  outrages  were  sustained  by  the  administration  at 
Washington — at  the  head  of  which  was  President  Pierce, 
a  native,  and  life-long  resident,  of  New  Hampshire ! 

We  crossed  the  prairie,  as  of  old 

The   Pilgrims  crossed  the  sea, 
To  make  the  West,  as  they  the  East, 

The  homestead  of  the  free. 
We  go  to  rear  a  wall  of  men 

On  Freedom's  southern  line, 
And  plant  beside  the  cotton-tree 

The  Rugged  Northern  Pine. 

We're  flowing  from  our  native  hills 

As  our  free  rivers  flow ; 
The  blessing  of  our  Mother-land 

Is  with  us  as  we  go. 
Upbearing  like  the  Ark  of  God, 

The  Bible  in  our  van, 
We  go  to  test  the  truth  of  God 

Against  the  fraud  of  Man. 

No  pause,  nor  rest,  save  where  the  streams 

That   feed  the  Kansas  run, 
Save  where  our  Pilgrim  gonfalon 

Shall  flout  the  setting  sun. 
We'll  tread  the  prairie,  as  of  old 

Our  fathers  sailed  the  sea; 

And  make  the  West  as  they  the  East 

The  homestead  of  the  free. 

—John  G.  Whittier. 

The  slavery  agitation  following  the  repeal  of  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise  produced  some  strange  and  unlocked- 


Some  Political  After-Math  159 

for  results.  Among  these  none  was  more  striking  than 
its  effects  upon  Senator  Benton  of  Missouri  and  Senator 
Cass  of  Michigan. 

Thomas  Benton,  long  a  resident  and  Senator  from 
Missouri,  in  the  face  of  what  he  knew  to  be  the  public 
sentiment  of  that  commonwealth,  voted  against  the  re- 
peal of  the  Missouri  Compromise. 

Lewis  Cass,  a  native  of  New  Hampshire,  long  a  Sen- 
ator from  and  resident  of  the  State  of  Michigan,  voted 
for  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise,  in  opposition 
to  what  was  known  to  be  the  sentiment  of  his  constit- 
uents. 

Missouri  refused  to  return  Benton  to  the  Senate,  and 
in  his  place  sent  James  S.  Green,  an  ultra  southern 
Democrat,  who  would  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  further 
the  interests  of  the  Slave  Power.  Likewise,  Michigan 
refused  to  return  Lewis  Cass  and  sent  to  the  National 
Senate  in  lieu  of  him,  Zachariah  Chandler,  a  Republican 
who  would  oppose  the  aggressions  of  the  slavery  prop- 
agandists to  the  extent  of  his  ability. 

The  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  set  in  motion 
a  sort  of  political  cyclone  that  upheaved  political  combi- 
nations, wrecked  political  parties  and  tore  asunder  the 
political  affiliations  of  a  lifetime.  The  "Old-Line" 
Whig  party,  of  which  Clay  had  been  the  idol  and  Web- 
ster the  prophet,  went  down,  in  the  slavery  agitation 
following  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise,  never 
to  rise  again.  Meantime  many  thousands  who  had  been 
life-long  adherents  of  the  Democratic  party  withdrew 
from  that  organization  because  it  endorsed  African 
slavery  and  either  supported  or  winked  at  the  efforts  of 
slave  propagandists.  All  these  dissatisfied  elements 
finally  came  together  and  organized  the  Republican 


160  Buchanan  Inaugurated  President 

party  whose  avowed  purpose  was,  if  possible,  to  prevent 
the  further  spread  of  slavery,  but  with  no  intent  to  dis- 
turb that  institution  where  it  lawfully  existed. 

In  1856  Fremont  and  Dayton,  Republican  candidates 
for  President  and  Vice-President,  respectively,  carried 
most  of  the  Northern  States,  but  failed  in  enough  of 
these  to  turn  the  election  to  James  Buchanan,  the  Dem- 
ocratic candidate.  President  Buchanan,  a  native  and 
life-long  resident  of  Pennsylvania,  was  inaugurated  on 
March  4,  1857.  But  notwithstanding  his  northern  birth 
and  association  he  had  not  long  been  in  office  till  he 
became  as  subservient  to  southern  interests  and  slavery 
aggressions  as  had  been  his  predecessor,  President  Pierce 
who,  as  we  have  seen,  was  a  native  and  life-long  resident 
of  New  England. 

Relative  to  slavery,  there  were  at  this  period  what 
might  be  termed  four  chief  schools  of  thought.  First 
the  old-time  Abolitionists  who  believed  that  slavery  was 
the  worst  of  evils  and  its  practice  a  crime;  and  who 
had  representatives  in  such  men  as  Wendell  Phillips, 
Garrison,  Gerret  Smith,  and  Lovejoy.  Second,  the  Re- 
publicans who  were  opposed  to  the  further  extension 
of  slavery,  but  were  not  disposed  to  interfere  with  it  in 
the  Slave  States;  Seward,  Lincoln,  Chase  and  others 
were  leaders  in  this  view.  Third,  those  who  believed 
in  popular  sovereignty,  familiarly  called  "squatter  sov- 
ereignty" which  contemplated  leaving  to  the  inhab- 
itants of  a  Territory  the  decision  of  the  question  of 
whether  they  should  or  should  not  have  slavery;  but 
the  adherents  of  popular  sovereignty  declared  that  they 
did  not  care  whether  slavery  was  "voted  up,  or  down" 
• — Senator  Douglas  was  the  great  apostle  of  this  view. 
A  fourth  school  of  thought  was  that  founded  by  John 


The  Dred  Scott  Decision  161 

C.  Calhoun  who  claimed  that  a  slave  holder  had  the 
same  inherent  right  to  take  his  slaves  to  a  Territory 
that  a  man  from  a  Free  State  had  to  take  his  hogs, 
horses  arid  cattle.  Jefferson  Davis,  Toombs,  Yancey, 
Mason,  Slidell  and  indeed,  all  the  ultra  Southern  Dem- 
ocrats held  to  this  view. 

The  Calhoun  school  went  so  far  as  to  claim  that  slavery 
was  national  and  freedom  sectional.  To  give  sanction 
to  the  idea  that  slaves  were  only  chattels  the  ultra  slave- 
holders contrived  to  have  a  case  in  point  come  up  before 
the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  and  in  due  time  the 
majority  of  the  members  of  that  body  rendered  a  de- 
cision to  the  effect  that  a  black  man  had  no  rights  that 
a  white  man  was  bound  to  respect.  This  was  popularly 
known  as  the  "Dred-Scott"  decision,  from  the  fact  that 
Dred  Scott  was  the  name  of  the  negro  whose  status, 
relative  to  slavery,  gave  rise  to  the  legal  question  in  con- 
troversy. This  decision  was  handed  down  in  1857,  a 
short  time  after  President  Buchanan  took  the  oath  of 
office  and  by  whom  it  was  accepted  as  final.  But  this 
the  opponents  of  slavery  refused  to  do.  v 

At  this  period  things  on  the  surface  looked  especially 
encouraging  for  southern  plans  and  aspirations.  James 
Buchanan,  the  newly  installed  chief  executive,  seemed 
disposed  to  go  any  length  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the 
Slave  Power  and  the  Dred  Scott  decision  making  it  legal 
for  slave  holders  to  take  their  slaves  to  the  territories 
had  just  been  handed  down. 

Douglas,  the  chief  exponent  of  "popular  sover- 
eignty", was  a  very  remarkable  man  who  by  sheer 
ability  and  industry  had  risen  to  be  one  of  the  most 
prominent  members  of  the  United  States  Senate.  This 
prominence  was  added  to  by  the  leading  part  he  bore 


162       Illinois  Becomes  a  Political  Storm-Center 

in  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  and  which 
in  the  fullest  sense  brought  him!  in  the  limelight — in 
the  limelight,  however,  of  very  much  popular  disfavor, 
Douglas  had  a  great  deal  of  personal  magnetism, ''made 
hosts  of  friends,  and  his  partisan  followers  almost  wor- 
shiped him.  But  the  repeal  of  the  Compromise  was 
like  the  overturning  of  a  hornet's  nest.  Consequently 
political  friends  were  converted  into  pronounced  ene- 
mies, devoted  followers  were  alienated,  and  the  erst- 
while idol  became  the  victim  of  the  most  bitter  criticism. 
Meanwhile  the  struggle  in  Kansas  kept  up  and  inten- 
sified the  excitement  among  the  people;  and  in  the 
midst  of  this  the  second  senatorial  term  of  Douglas  was 
approaching  its  end.  Accordingly  in  the  spring  of 
1858  he  began  making  speeches  to  his  Illinois  constitu- 
ents in  defense  of  his  course  in  Washington.  As  a  re- 
sult the  "Prairie  State"  became  a  veritable  storm-cen- 
ter of  the  "Question  of  Questions". 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Abraham  Lincoln, 
a  Springfield  lawyer  whose  political  experience  covered 
two  terms  in  the  Illinois  Legislature  in  the  late  thirties, 
and  one  term  in  Congress  during  the  Mexican  war,  be- 
came deeply  interested  in  what  was  uppermost  in  the 
people's  minds,  the  "Questions  of  Questions,"  and  chal- 
lenged Senator  Douglas  to  meet  him,  and  discuss,  in 
public,  the  various  phases  of  the  slavery  issue.  Douglas 
accepted  the  challenge  and  in  the  late  summer  and  early 
fall  of  1858  the  people  of  Illinois  had  the  rare  privilege 
of  witnessing  a  contest  between  two  giants  and  listening 
to  a  discussion  such  as  the  world  had  seldom  or  never 
heard  before. 

In  all  there  were  seven  joint  discussions  and  these 
occurred  respectively  at  Galesburg,  Ottawa,  Freeportr 


Senator  Stephen  A.   Douglas. 


The  Lincoln-Douglas  Debate  163 

in  Northern  Illinois;  Jonesboro,  in  Southern  Illinois; 
Charleston,  in  Eastern  Illinois,  and  Alton,  Quincy  and 
Galesburg,  in  Western  Illinois.  In  addition  each  of  the 
contestants  spoke  in  most  of  the  remaining  counties.  At 
that  time  I  was  a  resident  of  Bond  county  where  a  date 
was  fixed  for  Lincoln  to  speak  in  Greenville,,  our  county 
seat.  As  all  my  people  were  in  accord  with  Lincoln  and 
as  he  was  recognized  as  an  able  exponent  of  the  anti- 
slavery  cause,  I  very  naturally  was  desirous  of  hearing 
him.  But  unfortunately  for  me  when  the  long-looked- 
forward-to  day  came  I  was  in  bed  suffering  from  an 
acute  attack  of  illness.  As  will  be  readily  inferred  my 
disappointment  was  great,  so  great,  indeed,  that  my  re- 
gret at  not  being  able  to  hear  and  see  Lincoln  when  he 
came  to  our  county,  extends  to  this  hour. 

But  what  was  my  itt-fortune  proves  to  be  my  readers' 
good-f ortune ;  for  instead  of  offering  them  my  impres- 
sions of  the  greatest  character  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
I  have  had  the  good  luck  to  secure  some  Lincoln  remin- 
iscences from  a  far  abler  pen  than  my  own — that  of 
Stephen  A.  Forbes,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  of  the  University  of 
Illinois,  who  as  a  youth  was  privileged  to  attend  the . 
joint-discussion  at  Freeport,  a  graphic  account  of  which 
follows : 
University  of  Illinois 

Urbana,  Illinois,  March  27,  1917. 
Dr.  C.  B.  Johnson 

Champaign,  Illinois 
Dear  Doctor  Johnson : 

When  I  was  a  boy  of  fourteen  I  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  see  and  hear  Lincoln  in  one  of  his  series  of 
historic  debates  with  Douglas — that  at  Freeport,  in 
Northern  Illinois,  August  26,  1858.  My  father,  who 


164          young  Forbes  Sees  and  Hears  Lincoln 

had  died  four  years  before,  had  been  an  anti-slavery 
Whig,  although  not  a  man  of  partisan  temper,  and  my 
brother,  eleven  years  older  than  I  and  the  head  of  the 
family  since  my  father's  death,  was  strongly  opposed 
to  slavery.  I  had  myself  read  Mrs.  Stowe's  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  shortly  after  it  came  out  in  the  numbers 
of  the  National  Era  in  1851,  and  I  suppose,  conse- 
quently, that  I  must  have  come  up  to  the  Freeport  mass 
meeting  with  distinct  prepossessions  in  Lincoln's  favor. 
I  do  not  remember,  however,  that  I  had  any  very  defi- 
nite party  feeling  in  any  direction,  being,  in  fact,  too 
young,  or,  rather,  too  immature,  for  that,  unless  inter- 
ested and  aroused  by  some  unusual  circumstance.  This 
Lincoln  and  Douglas  debate  was  such  a  circumstance; 
and  I  came  away  from  it  quite  aflame  with  enthusiasm 
for  the  new  Republican  party  and  especially  for  Lin- 
coln as  its  champion,  and  equally  incensed  against 
Douglas  as  the  leader  and  champion  of  the  Democrats. 
These  boyish  impressions  fixed  my  politics,  as  it  proved, 
for  life,  and  did  more  than  anything  else  to  send  me  into 
the  Union  Army  only  three  years  later  and  to  hold  me 
there  until  the  end  of  the  Civil  War.  As  I  must  have 
been  a  "fair  sample"  of  hundreds  of  youths  of  the  day 
who  had  a  similar  experience,  I  am  writing  you  now  to 
redeem  my  promise  that  I  would  give  you  a  description 
of  the  impressions  which  led  to  this  result. 

The  debate  at  Freeport  was  held  in  a  natural  grove 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  open  enough  to  permit  the 
growth  of  a  grassy  turf,  and  the  great  throng  assembled 
from  the  surrounding  country  stood,  so  far  as  I  remem- 
ber, during  the  whole  debate.  At  any  rate  I  did  so  my- 
self, and  having  pushed  my  way,  after  the  fashion  of 
boys,  to  the  very  front  of  the  assembly,  I  was  within  a 


"A  Great  Mind  in  Vigorous  Action"          165 

few  feet  of  the  low  platform  from  which  the  speeches 
were  made,  and  both  heard  and  saw  everything  which 
went  on.  The  contrast  between  the  two  speakers  was 
simply  immense,  not  in  physique  and  bearing  only,  but 
in  their  relations  to  their  partisans  and  to  their  audi- 
ence as  a  whole.  Lincoln  seemed  a  man  of  the  people, 
homelier,  simpler,  and  plainer  than  the  average  of  those 
before  him — one  who  had  risen  above  the  common  level 
by  sheer  force  of  intellect  and  conspicuous  moral  worth. 
His  arguments  were  as  direct  in  their  appeal  to  Demo- 
crats as  to  Republicans,  and  his  speech  made  no  call 
upon  the  party  passion  of  his  followers;  he  seemed  not 
so  much  to  aim  at  the  vindication  of  his  party  as  to 
persuade  and  convince  the  fair-minded,  the  open-minded 
and  the  undecided  of  whatever  previous  party  affilia- 
tions. 

Douglas,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the  aggressive,  com- 
bative, defiant  party  leader  seeking  to  arouse  his  follow- 
ers to  a  kind  of  party  fury,  and  to  brow-beat  and  cowe 
his  opponents  by  a  violence  of  bearing  and  expressions 
of  contempt  which  were  at  times  little  short  of  insulting. 

When  Lincoln  arose  to  open  the  debate,  my  first  feel- 
ing was  a  genuine  shock  of  surprise,  of  disappointment, 
of  chagrin  at  his  homeliness,  his  awkwardness,  his  plain- 
ness of  attire — at  the  farthest  remove  from  the  bearing, 
look,  and  dress  of  a  boy 's  ideal ;  but  when  he  began  his 
argument  in  his  high,  penetrating  voice,  calm,  clear, 
connected,  and  so  simple  and  lucid  that  even  I  could 
follow  it  without  effort,  I  got  the  first  impression  of  my 
life  of  a  truly  lofty  character  and  a  great  mind  in  vig- 
orous action. 

Lincoln,  as  you  will  remember,  made  the  opening 
speech  at  Freeport,  and  although  his  most  telling  points 


166  One  Listener  "Talks  Back" 

were  enthusiastically  applauded,  there  was  practically 
nothing  in  the  responses  of  his  audience  to  indicate  that 
there  were  any  Democrats  among  them.  Douglas,  in 
fact,  opened  his  rejoinder  with  a  compliment,  not  to  the 
speaker  for  his  calm  and  persuasive  speech,  but  to  the 
assembly  for  "the  kind  and  respectful  attention  which 
they  yielded  not  only  to  political  friends  but  to  those 
opposed  to  them  in  politics."  He  himself  received  at 
first  the  same  kind  of  treatment,  being  even  more  fre- 
quently and  vociferously  applauded  than  Lincoln;  but 
as  he  warmed  up  to  his  argument  he  began  seemingly 
to  try  to  irritate  his  opponents  by  calling  them  always 
"black"  Republicans,  with  an  angry  and  contemptuous 
emphasis  on  the  word  "black."  The  taunt  was  re- 
ceived in  silence  for  a  few  times,  and  then  loud  cries  of 
"white,  white,"  began  to  come  from  all  directions,  every 
time  he  used  the  offensive  epithet,  and  the  clamor  pres- 
ently became  so  great,  after  a  peculiarly  irritating  ap- 
plication of  it,  that  Douglas  paused  to  remind  his  hearers 
""that  while  Lincoln  was  speaking  there  was  not  a  Dem- 
ocrat vulgar  and  blackguard  enough  to  interrupt  him." 
It  was  at  this  point  that  my  adhesion  to  republicanism 
became  complete,  and  I  shouted  up  to  Douglas  at  the 
top  of  my  boyish  voice:  "Lincoln  didn't  use  any  such 
talk."  I  was  sharply  reproved  by  those  about  me,  and 
told  that  I  must  not  "talk  back";  and  so  stood  in  mor- 
tified silence  until  Lincoln  again  took  the  stand,  when 
he  began  by  saying:  "The  first  thing  I  have  to  say  to 
you  is  a  word  in  regard  to  Judge  Douglas's  declaration 
about  the  'vulgarity  and  blackguardism'  in  the5  audi- 
ence,— that  no  such  thing  as  he  says,  was  shown  by  any 
Democrat  while  I  was  speaking.  Now,  I  only  wish,  by 
way  of  reply  on  this  subject,  to  say  that  while  /  was 


"Who  Is  This  Man  Lincoln f"  167 

speaking,  /  used  no  'vulgarity  or  blackguardism'  toward 
any  Democrat."  With  this  elaboration  of  my  own  sen- 
timent I  need  not  say  that  I  was  relieved  and  delighted, 
or  that  I  joined  in  the  hearty  "laughter  and  applause" 
with  which  the  verbatim  account  of  the  speech  says  that 
this  rejoinder  was  received.  The  published  report,  by 
the  way,  is  not  complete  at  this  point,  for  I  distinctly 
remember  that  Lincoln  twice  used  the  word  "gentle- 
man," saying  that  the  Democrats  treated  him  like  gen- 
tlemen, because  he  treated  them  as  a  gentleman  should. 

This  was,  of  course,  the  crisis  of  my  day's  experience, 
and  I  recall  nothing  else  of  any  consequence,  probably 
because  I  had  had  my  fill,  and,  like  Abner  Dean  of  the 
Stanislaus,  the  subsequent  proceedings  interested  me 
no  more. 

Very  truly  yours, 

STEPHEN  A.  FORBES. 

While  the  leaders  had  implicit  confidence  in  Lincoln's 
ability  to  hold  his  own  many  others  were  in  dread  lest 
their  champion  would  prove  no  match  for  Douglas.  As 
for  the  Democrats  they  spoke  contemptuously  of  Lin- 
coln and  were  confident  he  would  be  badly  worsted. 

Time  works  many  changes.  In  1858  the  question 
often  asked  was,  "Who  is  this  man  Lincoln?"  And  the 
answer  not  infrequently  was,  "Oh,  he's  a  lawyer  from 
Springfield  who  imagines  he  jean  debate  with  Douglas ! ' ' 
The  manner  and  tone  in  which  these  last  words  were 
spoken  cannot  be  conveyed,  but  told  much  of  the  speak- 
er's contempt  for  what  he  conceived  Lincoln  would  be 
able  to  achieve. 

Today  the  young  inquirer  asks,  "Who  was  Stephen 
A.  Douglas?"  And  the  answer  that  the  old  citizen 


168  Young  Putnam  at  Cooper  Union 

makes  is,  "Oh,  he's  the  man  who  opposed  Lincoln  in 
the  great  debate  of  1858." 

In  a  word,  in  the  fifties  Douglas  brought  the  un- 
known Lincoln  in  the  lime-light ;  today  the  fame  of  Lin- 
coln rescues  Douglas  from  obscurity. 

But  notwithstanding  the  fears  of  some,  in  a  moral 
and  intellectual  way,  Lincoln  more  than  held  his  own 
and  really  came  out  victor  over  the  "Little  Giant,"  as 
the  admirers  of  Douglas  were  fond  of  calling  him.  But 
while  in  the  election  following  the  great  debate  Lincoln 
received  the  largest  popular  vote,  yet  the  majority  of 
the  legislators  elected  were  for  Douglas  and  consequent- 
ly he  was  returned  to  the  national  senate. 

Although  Lincoln  failed  of  election  he  won  a  reputa- 
tion in  his  debate  with  Douglas  that  could  not  be  con- 
fined within  state  limits;  and  later  he  accepted  an  invi- 
tation to  address  an  audience  in  New  York  City  where 
he  delivered,  his  famous  Cooper  Institute  speech  that 
added  greatly  to  his  reputation  in  the  East,  and  later 
helped  him  to  win  the  presidential  nomination. 

One  of  Lincoln 's  greatly  interested  hearers  was  a  cer- 
tain youth  who  later  recorded  what  he  heard,  saw  and 
felt  on  that  memorable  occasion  as  follows:* 

"In  February,  1860,  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  se- 
cure a  personal  glimpse  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  man 
who  was  to  have  the  responsibility  as  leader  in  the  great 
contest  for  the  maintenance  of  the  Republic.  Lincoln 
had  been  invited  by  certain  of  the  Republican  leaders 
in  New  York  to  deliver  the  first  of  a  series  of  addresses 
which  had  been  planned  to  make  clear  to  the  voters  the 


*George  Haven  Putnam  in  "Memories  of  My  Youth",  G.  P. 
Putnam's  Sons,  New  York,  1914. 


The  Man  From  the  Prairies  169 

purposes  and  the  principles  of  the  new  party.  As  a 
result  of  the  series  of  debates1  with  Douglas  in  1858, 
Lincoln's  name  had  become  known  to  many  Republi- 
cans in  the  East.  It  was  recognized  that  he  had  shown 
clear  understanding  of  the  principles  on  which  the  new 
party  had  been  organized  and  that  his  counsel  should 
prove  of  distinctive  service  in  the  shaping  of  the  policy 
of  the  coming  Presidential  campaign.  The  Committee 
of  Invitation  included,  in  addition  to  a  group  of  the  old 
Whigs,  of  whom  my  father  was  one,  representatives  of 
Free-Soil  Democrats  such  as.  William  Cullen  Bryant 
and  John  King. 

Lincoln's  methods  as  a  political  leader  and  orator 
were  known  to  one  6r  two  men  on  the  Committee,  but 
his  name  was  still  unfamiliar  to  an  Eastern  audience. 
It  was  understood  that  the  new  leader  from  the  West 
was  going  to  talk  to  New  York  about  the  fight  against 
slavery;  and  it  is  probable  that  the  larger  part  of  the 
audience  expected  something  "wild  and  woolly".  The 
West  at  that  time  seemed  very  far  off  from  New  York 
and  was  still  but  little  understood  or  little  realized  by 
the  communities  of  the  East.  New  York  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  believe  that  a  man  from  the  prairies  could  have 
anything  to  say  that  would  count  with  the  cultivated 
citizens  of  the  metropolis.  The  more  optimistic  of  the 
hearers  were  hoping  that  perhaps  a  new  Henry  Clay 
had  arisen,  and  these  were  looking  for  utterances  of  the 
ornate  and  grandiloquent  kind,  such  as  they  had  heard 
from  Henry  Clay  and  from  other  statesmen  of  the 
South. 

My  father  had  the  opportunity,  as  a  member  of  the 
Committee,  of  smuggling  me  in  upon  the  platform  at 
Cooper  Union,  and  from  the  corner  where  I  sat,  I  had 


170  Not  "Wild  and  Woolly" 

a  fair  view  of  the  speaker.  The  meeting  was  presided 
over  by  Bryant  and  the  contrast  between  the  cultivated 
chairman  and  the  speaker  was  marked.  Bryant,  while 
short,  gave  the  impression  at  once  of  dignity  and  of 
control.  His  magnificent  big  head,  with  the  mass  of 
flowing  hair,  was  that  of  a  bard.  Bryant's  fame  as  a 
poet  has  possibly  eclipsed  the  importance  of  his  service 
as  an  editorial  teacher  with  the  highest  standards  of 
citizenship  and  as  a  wise  and  patriotic  leader  of  public 
opinion. 

The  first  impression  of  the  man  from  the  West  did 
nothing  to  contradict  the  expectation  of  something 
weird,  rough,  and  uncultivated.  The  long,  ungainly 
figure  upon  which  hung  clothes  that,  while  newly  made 
for  this  trip,  were  evidently  the  work  of  an  unskilled 
tailor;  the  large  feet  and  the  clumsy  hands  of  which, 
at  the  outset  at  least,  the  speaker  seemed  to  be  unduly 
conscious;  the  long  gaunt  head,  capped  by  a  shock  of 
hair  that  seemed  not  to  have  been  thoroughly  brushed 
out,  made  a  picture  which  did  not  fit  in  with  New 
York's  conception  of  a  finished  statesman.  The  first 
utterance  of  the  voice  was  not  pleasant  to  the  ear,  the 
tone  being  harsh  and  the  key  too  high.  As  the  speech 
progressed,  however,  the  voice  gained  a  natural  and 
impressive  modulation,  the  gestures  were  dignified  and 
natural,  and  the  hearers  found  themselves  under  the 
influence  of  the  earnest  look  from  the  deeply  set  eyes 
and  of  the  absolute  integrity  of  purpose  and  of  devo- 
tion to  principle  which  impressed  the  thought  and  the 
words  of  the  speaker.  In  place  of  a  "  wild  and  woolly ' ' 
talk,  illumined  by  more  or  less  incongruous  anecdotes, 
in  place  of  a  high-strung  exhortation  of  general  prin- 
ciples or  of  a  fierce  protest  against  Southern  arrogance, 


Restriction  of  Slavery  Insisted  Upon  171 

the  New  Yorkers  had  presented  to  them  a  calm  but 
forcible  series  of  well-reasoned  considerations  upon 
which  was  to  be  based  their  action  as  citizens. 

It  was  evident  that  the  man  from  the  West  under- 
stood thoroughly  the  constitutional  history  of  the  coun- 
try; he  had  mastered  the  issues  that  had  grown  up 
about  the  slavery  question;  he  realized,  and  was  pre- 
pared to  respect,  the  rights  of  his  political  opponents. 
He  realized  equally  the  right  of  the  men  whose  views 
he  was  helping  to  shape,  and  he  insisted  that  there 
should  be  no  wavering  or  weakening  in  regard  to  the 
enforcement  of  those  rights;  he  made  it  clear  that  the 
continued  existence  of  the  nation  depended  upon  the 
equitable  adjustment  of  these  issues,  and  he  held  that 
such  adjustment  meant  the  restriction  of  slavery  within 
its  present  boundaries.  He  maintained  that  such  re- 
striction was  just  and  necessary,  as  well  on  the  ground 
of  fairness  to  the  blacks  as  for  the  final  welfare  of  the 
whites.  He  insisted  that  the  voters  in  the  present  states 
of  the  Union  had  upon  them  the  largest  possible  meas- 
ure of  responsibility  in  so  controlling  the  great  domain 
of  the  Republic  that  the  States  of  the  future,  the  States 
in  which  their  children  and  their  grandchildren  were 
to  grow  up  as  citizens,  should  be  preserved  in  full  lib- 
erty, and  be  protected  against  the  invasion  and  the 
control  of  the  institution  that  represented  barbarity. 
Such  a  contention  could  interfere  in  no  way  with  the 
recognition  that  was  due  under  the  obligations,  entered 
into  by  the  grandfathers  and  confirmed  by  the  fathers, 
to  the  property  rights  of  the  present  owners  of  slaves. 

With  the  New  Englanders  of  the  anti-slavery  group, 
the  speaker  emphasized  that  the  restriction  of  slavery 
meant  its  early  extermination;  and  with  this  belief  he 


172  Lincoln's  Fairness 

insisted  that  war  for  the  purpose  of  exterminating  sla- 
very from  existing  slave  territory  could  not  be  justified. 
He  was  prepared,  however,  for  the  purpose  of  protect- 
ing against  slavery  the  national  territory  that  was  still 
free,  to  take  the  risk  of  the  war  which  was  threatened 
from  the  South,  because  he  believed  that  only  through 
such  action  could  the  existence  of  the  nation  be  main- 
tained. He  believed  further  that  the  maintenance  of 
the  great  Republic  was  essential  not  only  for  the  wel- 
fare of  its  own  citizens  but  for  the  interest  and  the 
development  of  free  government  throughout  the  world. 
He  spoke  with  full  sympathy  of  the  difficulties  and 
problems  resting  upon  the  men  of  the  South,  and  he 
insisted  that  the  matters  at  issue  could  be  adjusted 
only  with  a  fair  recognition  of  these  difficulties.  Ag- 
gression must  be  withstood  from  whichever  side  of  Ma- 
son and  Dixon's  Line  it  might  be  threatened. 

I  was  but  a  boy  when  I  first  looked  upon  the  gaunt 
figure  of  the  man  who  was  to  be  accepted  as  the  peo- 
ple's leader  in  the  great  struggle,  and  listened  to  the 
calm  but  forcible  arguments  in  behalf  of  the  principles 
of  the  Republican  party.  It  is  not  likely  that  I  took 
in  at  the  time  with  any  adequate  appreciation  the 
weight  of  the  speaker's  reasoning.  I  have  read  the  ad- 
dress since  more  than  once,  and  it  is,  of  course,  impos- 
sible to  separate  my  first  impressions  from  my  later 
knowledge.  I  do  remember  that  I  was  at  once  impressed 
with  the  feeling  that  here  was  a  political  leader  whose 
methods  differed  from  those  of  any  politician  to  whom 
I  had  listened.  His  contentions  were  based  not  upon 
invective  or  abuse  of  the  other  fellow,  but  purely  on 
considerations  of  justice,  on  that  everlasting  principle 
that  what  is  just,  and  only  what  is  just,  represents  the 


Presidential  Election  of  1860  173 

largest  and  highest  interests  of  the  whole  nation.  As 
I  learned  from  the  later  history,  this  Cooper  Union 
speech  gave  the  keynote  for  the  coming  campaign,  and 
it  also  decided  the  selection  of  the  national  leader  not 
only  for  the  Presidential  campaign,  but  through  the 
coming  struggle.  It  was  through  the  impression  made 
upon  New  York,  and  later  upon  the  States  of  the  East, 
by  Lincoln's  speech  and  by  the  personality  of  the  man, 
that  the  votes  of  New  York  and  New  England  were  se- 
cured for  the  nomination  in  Chicago  of  the  man  from 
Illinois." 

The  presidential  election  of  1860  was  the  most  re- 
markable and,  as  the  sequel  proved,  the  most  eventful 
political  contest  in  the  history  of  this  country.  Four 
tickets  were  in  the  field:  The  Republicans  nominated 
Lincoln  and  Hamlin;  the  Northern  wing  of  the  Demo- 
cratic party,  Douglas  and  Herschell  V.  Johnson ;  the 
Southern  wing,  J.  C.  Breckenridge  and  Joseph  Lane; 
and  finally  the  quickly  organized  Constitutional  Union 
party  brought  out  John  Bell  of  Tennessee  and  Edward 
Everett  of  Massachusetts.  This  last  was  derisively  re- 
ferred to  as  the  "Kangaroo"  ticket  for  the  reason  that 
Edward  Everett,  the  candidate  for  vice-president,  was 
a  much  abler  man  than  Bell,  the  candidate  for  president. 
It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  while  the  last  named  was 
the  only  ticket  of  the  four  in  the  field  that  had  the  word 
Union  as  part  of  its  designation,  nevertheless,  the  man 
who  headed  this  later  became  an  avowed  secessionist  and 
cast  his  fortunes  with  the  Confederacy. 

That  the  newly  formed  Republican  party  with  its 
avowed  opposition  to  the  further  extension  of  slavery 
appealed  specially  to  my  immediate  family  need  not 
be  said. 


174  An  Ideal  Election  Day 

I  was  too  young  to  vote,  nevertheless  I  attended  a 
number  of  political  meetings  and  listened  attentively  to 
the  speakers,  one  of  the  most  eloquent  and  effective  of 
whom  was  the  older  Richard  Yates  who  a  little  later 
became  the  distinguished  "War  Governor"  of  Illinois. 

All  over  the  country  a  great  many  marching  clubs 
were  organized  by  the  Republicans  under  the  name  of 
Wide-awakes".  These  clubs  were  largely  made  up  of 
young  men  who  carried  wooden  spears  in  day-time  and 
torches  at  night.  They  were  for  the  most  part  a  rollick- 
ing, joy-loving  lot,  and  no  one  realized  that  within  two 
or  three  years  instead  of  bearing  harmless  wooden 
spears,  they  nearly  all  would  be  carrying  muskets  with 
which  to  cripple  and  slay  their  fellow-men. 

The  presidential  election  of  1860  fell  on  November  6r 
a  day  I  shall  never  forget.  There  was  a  cloudless  sky 
and  the  air  was  as  warm  and  soft  as  May.  "Just  the 
kind  of  a  day  for  the  Democrats  to  lose,"  said  one  of  the 
wise  ones.  And  they  did  lose.  The  Republican  ticket 
had  180  votes  in  the  electoral  college,  a  majority  of  57 
over  all. 

The  Republican  popular  vote  aggregated  a  little  less 
than  two  millions ;  the  Douglas  wing  of  the  Democratic 
party  a  little  more  than  a  million  and  a  quarter;  the 
Breckenridge  wing  not  quite  a  million;  and  the  Consti- 
tutional and  Union  party  about  six  hundred  thousand. 

Eight  years  later  the  two  wings  of  the  Democratic 
party  came  together  and  have  since  been  a  unit.  The 
Constitutional  Union  party  died  a  natural  death  when 
the  sun  went  down  on  the  evening  of  November  6,  1860. 

In  less  than  six  weeks  after  President  Lincoln  was 
inaugurated  the  first  shot  was  fired  in  one  of  the  greatest 
Civil  Wars  in  history  and,  which  before  its  close,  was 


Destined  to  Exact  a  Heavy  Toll  175 

destined  to  exact,  as  part  of  its  toll,  the  lives  of  five 
hundred  thousand  young  men,  the  very  flower  and  hope 
of  the  land.*  But  great  as  was  its  cost,  this  struggle 
preserved  the  Nation,  cemented  the  Union  of  the  States, 
and  forever  settled  "The  Question  of  Questions." 


*See  "Muskets  and  Medicine"  by  the  author. 


INDEX 


Abolitionists,  160 
"Academy",  101-107 
Accidents,  18,  50,  128-9 
A  crying  need,  27 
Affairs,  a  man  of,  54 
Aftermath,  political,   158-9 
Almanacs,  14,  118-19 
Alton,   163 

American  Party,  144 
American  River,  38 
American  Sunday  School 

Union,   14-75 
Amity  Hotel,  52 
"A  mighty  hot  hell",  52 
Amusements,  76-84 
Apple  orchard,   an,  30 
Apple  picking,  30-1 
Apples,  some  old-time,  30 
Appomattox,    149 
Asiatic  cholera,   44-5 
Atlantic  Monthly,  120 
Authors,   117,   118,   122 
Bacon,  curing  of,  19 
Backlogs,  huge,  12 
Barns,  well  filled,  29 
Bar-room,    52 
Battle  line,  a,  110,  114 
Bed   furnishings,    14 
Bed,  trundle,  13 
Bed  valances,  14 
Beds,  some  old  time,  14 
Bell,   John,   173-4 
Benton,  Senator  Thomas 

154-9 

"Big"  hominy,  19 
Bond  County,  145,  163 
Books,    library,    122 
Books,    medical,    124-7 
Books,  religious,  117 
Buchanan,      President,    146-7- 

8,   161 

Buggies,  few  in  use,  26,  138 
Bullets,  molding,  35 
"By-sun",  hours,  25 
Cabin,   log,   11-19 
Calhoun,   Senator  John  C., 

151-5 
California,  36,  37-48,  100,  145, 

151 
California,   gold,  36,  37-48 


Candle-making,    33-4 
Canning  fruit,  first,  20 
Caps,  percussion,  78 
Caps,  women's,   16,   17 
Cass,  Senator  Lewis,  154-9 
Cat — "out  of  the  bag",  41 
"Changing  the  mail",   51 
Chandler,   Senator  Zack.,   159 
Characters,   some  unique,  49, 

108 
Chase,  Senator  Salmon  P. 

156-7 

Chest,  the  pioneer's,  15 
"Chivarees",  82 
Cholera,   44-5 

Church,  an  up-to-date,   68-9 
Church    people,    68-75 
Churches,    68-75 
Cider  and  Gingerbread,  143 
Civil  War,  107,  136,  164,   175 
Clay,  Henry,  152-4 
"Cloven-footed",  70 
Clocks,  few  in  use,  25 
Coloma,   38-43 
Colporteur,  119 
Cooper  Institute  speech,  168- 

173 

Comet,  Donati's,  83 
Composition,   school,   108 
Compromise,  Missouri,  146 

156 
Compromise,  repeal  of,  146 

156-166 
Constitutional    Union    Party, 

174-5 

Cyclone,   a  political,   159 
Contest,   a  hunting,  79 
Cooking  utensils,  11-35 
Cooper  Union,   168 
Cornfield,   an   Illinois    in   the 

50's,  108-116 

Counterfeit   Detector,    62 
Daily  papers,  119 
Dame  Rumor,   55 
Davis,  Jefferson,  149,  155 
Death  of  two  forty-niners,  47 
Debate,  questions  for,  85-7 
Debaters,    some    village,    85-7 
Declaimers,   youthful,   108 


Demand,  keeping  up  with, 

27-35 

Democrats,  143-6-8,  167 
Digging    wells,    23 
Discovery  of  California  gold, 

39 
Diseases,   the   more  common, 

128-9 

Dishes,   blue-edged,   17 
Divining  rod,  the,  23 
Donati's   comet,   83 
Doctor,  a  botanic,  124-134 
Doctor,  an  easy-going,  124-6 
Doctor,  an  energetic,  128 
Doctor,  a  mineral,  124-134 
Doctors,   two   village,   123-133 
"Dog-irons",  12 
Douglas,   Senator,   136,   156, 

173 

Dr.  Jekyl  and  Mr.  Hyde,  54 
Dr.   Tansy,    123-133 
Dr.   Tartar,   123-133 
Dred  Scott  Decision,  161 
Drinking  water,   13 
Drying  fruit,  20 
Elections,    142-148,    158,    173 
Election  day,  a  pleasant,  174 
Election  day,  a  rainy,  148 
Era  of  Clay,  Webster  and 

Calhoun,   154 

Era  of  the  Revolution,  154 
Era  of  Seward,   Sumner  and 

Chase,  154 
Everett,  Edward,  174 
Expedient,  a  profitable,  38,41 
Fence,  a  unique,  146 
Fiddle,  a  Jerusalem,  32 
Filmore    and    Donnelson,   143 
Fire,    borrowing,    18 
Fire,  unquenchable,  70 
Fireplace,    cooking    over,    17, 

18,    19 
Fishermen,  a  pair  of,  91-95 

34 

Food   in   pioneer"  days,   17-21, 
"Foot-pad",  14 
Forbes,  S.  A.,  163-7 
Forbes,  young,  sees  and  hears 

Lincoln,  163-7 
Foot-wear,   25 
Fort,    Sutter's,   36-46 
Forty-niner,  one,  43-5 
Forty-niners,  43 


Flag-raisings,  147 

Flies,   typhoid,    (house),   53-4 

Fly-screen,  first  use  of,  53 

Frank  Leslies,  120 

Fremont  and  Dayton,  147 

Freeport,  163-7 

Free  schools,  first,  101-2 

Free  State  men,  156-174 

Fruit,  drying,  19-20 

Fruit,  first  canning,  20 

Fruit,  wild,  20-1 

Fugitive  Slave-law,  154 

Galesburg,  163 

Game,  wild,  76-9 

General   Scott,   143 

Georgia,   42,   48 

Giants  in  those  days,  154 

Giants,  two,  162 

Glimpse,  a,  of  Lincoln,  168 

God's  Acre,  134 

Going  to  mill,  21-2,  91-5 

Gold!   Gold,  39 

Gold,  California,  36-48,  135 

Gold,  first  discovered,  39 

Gold  digging,  43 

Gold   Seekers,  36-48 

Goldsmith,  57,  76,  97-8 

Goose-yokes,  65-6 

Grain-cradle,  11 

Grain,  threshing,  32-3 

Greely,  Horace,  120,  157 

Greenville,  111.,  163 

Green,  Senator,  J.  S.,  159 

"Ground-hog",  32 

Harbor,  a  reptilian,  93-4 

"Hard"  money,  61-2 

Harper  and  Brothers,  122 

Harper's  Monthly,  120 

Harper's  Weekly,  120 

Heat-plant,  the  pioneer's,  12 

"Hell"  a  mighty  hot,  52 

"Hell  on  the  Wabash",  128 

Highland,  111.,  145 

Highway,  a  miniature,  125 

Hike's  store,  58-66 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  125 

Home-dyes,    24 

Home-spun,  24,  134 

Horace  Greely,  120 

Horn,  a  hunter's,  13 

Horse-shoe  Bend,  93 

Hospitality,  a  pioneer's,  99 

House,  a  durable,  28 


House,  evolution  of  a,  27-8 
Hub,  the  village,  54 
Hunting  contest,  a,  79 
Illinois,  11,  57,  101,  110,  140- 

4-6,  164 

Illinois  Territory,  27 
Industry,  a  captain  of,  36-44 
Jack-frost,  19 
Jack  Jawgood,  59,  60 
Jacksonville,  135 
"Jims",  a  pair  of,  89 
Johnson,  Albert,  107 
Johnson,  Benjamin,  145 
Johnson,  James,  43-5 
Jones,  Benjamin,  27-35 
Jonesboro,  163 
"Kangaroo"  ticket,  173 
Kansas,  155 
Kindling  a  fire,  18 
Know-Nothing  Party,  144 
Lager  beer  in  the  50's,  145 
Lake  Michigan,  140 
Landlord,  the,  54 
Land  of  Promises,  27,  43,  45 
Lane,  Mr.,  54-6 
Latch-string,   on   the   outside, 

14 

Lawyer,  a  young,   87-9 
Lee,  General,  149 
Leggins,   26 

Lessons,  some  useful,  106 
Letter,  a  sad,  47 
Letters,   old-time,   63 
Library,  the  village,  122 
Library,  school,  122 
Life,  living  a  dual,  54-6 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  26,  83,  146, 

160-8 

Lincoln,  a  glimpse  of,  168 
Lincoln-Douglas    Debate,     83, 

162-8 

"Lining"  a  hymn,  101 
"Little  Giant",   168 
Literary  longings,  121 
Log  School  House,  97-100 
Looking  backwards,  131 
Looking  Glass  prairie,  76 
Loom,  the  hand,  16 
Lost  Cause,  155 
"Low  lies  that  house",  57 
Lyceum,  the  village,  85-9 
Macaulay,  Lord,  149,  150 
Machinery,  crude,  90-7 


Mail  pouch,  50-1 
Maine-law,  144-6 
"Marketers"  and  "Movers", 

139,  140 

Marshall,  James  W.,  37 
Massachusetts,  154 
Matches,  not  in  use,  18 
McGuffy's  Readers,  106,  120-1 
Memory,  a  pleasant,  16,  77 
Merchant,  an  enterprising, 

58-66 

Methodists,  68-73 
Meeting-house,  68 
Meeting,  going  to,  68 
Meeting,  Quarterly,  70,  71 
Mexican  War,  150-1,  162 
Mill-site,  an  important,  38-9 
Mississippi  River,  140 
Missouri  Compromise,  146,  156 
Missouri  Compromise,  repeal 

of,  146,  156-166 
Missouri  Democrat,  120 
Missouri  Republican,  120 
Missouri  River.  44-5 
Money,  how  transported,  51 
Money,  hard,  61-2 
Money,  paper,  61-2 
"Music  hath  charms",  98-9 
National  Union,  155 
Nebraska,  44-6,  157 
"Nectar",  32 
New  Mexico,  152 
Newsmonger,  a,  59,  60 
Newspapers,  60,  119,  120 
New  York  Tribune,  120,  157 
Orchards,  30-1 
Organization,  a  philantrophic, 

80-1 
O'Connor,    an    Irish    teacher, 

98-100 

Omnibus  bill,  the,  152-4 
Outfit,  a  California,  43-4 
Overturning,  an,  18 
Panama,  47 
Paper  money,  61-2 
Paper,  weekly,  119,  120 
Paradise,  a  child's,  99 
Parallel  between  Calhoun  and 

Webster,  154-5 
Pens,  goosequills,  100 
Periodic,  a,  56 
Periodicals  in  the  50's,  120 


Pettifoggers,   some   village, 

85-9 

Pierce,  President,  143,  153-4 
Picture,  an  indelible,  15,  16 
Pioneer,  furnishings,  12,  35 
Pioneer,   a  progressive,   27-35 
Pioneers,  the,  11 
Plains,  crossing  the,  43-5 
Plenty  in  promise,  115,  116 
Plow  "diamond",  108-112 
Plow,  prairie,  108-110 
Pocahontas,  52,  76,  145 
Politics,  142-148 
Polk,  President,  43,  150-1 
Pass-time,  a  popular,  58-9 
Preacher,  an  expectorating, 

70 

Preachers,  68-75 
Preachers,  ideal,  71-3-4 
Presidential  election  of  1856, 

147 
Presidential  election  of  1860, 

173-4 

Protracted  meeting,  71-2,  81 
Publishers  in  the  50's,  122 
Putnam,   George   Haven,   168, 

note 

Putnam's  monthly,  120 
Putnam,  young,  sees  and 

hears  Lincoln,  168-173 
Quarterly  Meeting,  70-1 
Questions  for  debate,  85-7 
"Question  of  Questions",  the, 

162-3,  175 
Quincy,  111.,  163 
Raalways,    early    'in    Illinois, 

56-7,  135-7 

Rain-water,  barrel,  23 
Raising  a  school  house,  102 
Reaper  and   Mower,   11 
Reading  matter,  117-122 
Remembrance,  an  indelible, 

103-4 
Reciprocity  among  neighbors, 

19 

Reems,   Old  Billy,  77-8 
Republican  Party,  146-71,  173- 

4 
Republican  Party,  first 

named,   146 
Rifle,  Kentucky,  12,  16,  35, 

77-8 
Rifle,  loading  a,  78 


Rounder,  a  religious,  72 
Sacramento  City,  36 
Sacramento  River,  36 
Sacrifice,  an  injudicious,  28 
San  Francisco,  45-7 
Scavenger,  supposed,  53-4 
Schools,  96-107 
Scholars,  97-107 
School  house,  log,  97-100 
Schools,  subscription,  100-2 
School  teachers,  96-107 
Scott,  General,   110 
Settlers,  early,  110 
Sewing  Society,  80 
"Shakes",  the,  128 
Shawls,  men's,  25 
Shoal  Creek,  76,  95 
Shotgun,   11 
Shows,  79,  80 
Showman,  a  traveling,  80 
Slavery,  87,  149-175 
Slave-holders,  79,  149-175 
Slave-power,  149-175 
Slogan,  a  party,  147 
Smokehouse,  the,  19,  33 
Snakes,  many,  112 
Social   gathering,    80-1 
Songs,  some  old,  81 
Soap-making,  22 
Southern  rights,  149-175 
Space,  utilizing,  15 
Spelling  school,  104-5 
Spinning  wheel,  16 
Spirit-rappings,  84-5 
"Spit  here",  70 
Sports,  76-84 
Springs,  23,  110,  111 
Springfield,  135,  167 
Stage  coach,  49,  138 
Stage  driver,  49 
Stage-stand,  51-2 
Stamps,  not  in  use,  63 
"Steam-cars",  137 
Stevenson,  Robert  Louis,  56 
Stephenson's   locomotive,   103 
Storm-center,  a,  162 
"Store-clothes",  24,  99 
Stranger,  a  well  dressed,  54 
Strange  but  true,  112 
St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  44 
St.    Louis,    Mo.,    44-5,   51,    61, 

119,  120 
Store,  a  country,  58-66 


Subscription  schools,  101 
"Suck-hole",  the,  93 
Surprise,  a  matrimonial,  80-1 
Sunday  school,  55-6 
"Sun-up  till  sun-down",  113 
Sutter,  Captain,  36-42 
Sutter's  Fort,  36-42 
Tansy,  Dr.  Tobias,  123-133 
Tartar,  Dr.  Salmon,  123-133 
Teacher,  an  Irish,  97-100 
Teachers,  faithful,  107 
Texas,  149-151 
Three  R's,  the  103 
Threshing  floor,  a,  32 
Threshing  machine,  first,  32 
Tickets,  presidential,  147, 

173-4 

Transaction,   a   puzzling,   143 
Travel,  common  modes  of, 

138 

"Tricks  in  all  trades",  130 
Tunes,    some   old,    74 
Tyler,   President,    149,   150-1 
Utensils,  pioneer,  12-18 
Utilizing  space,  15 
Union,  National,  151-155 
Valances,  bed,  14,  15 
Village  church,  68-75 


Village  "club",  61 
Village  debaters,  85-9 
Village  doctors,   two,   123-134 
Village  "hub",  the  54 
Village  pettifoggers,  85-9 
Village  store,  58-66 
Wait,  Wm.  S.,  136 
Wamus,  24-5 
War  Governor,  a,  173 
Water  mill,  11,  90-94 
"Water-Witch",  23 
Watches,  very  few,  25 
Weather  predictions,  118,  119 
Weaving,  old-time,  34 
Webster,  Daniel,  151-4 
Weekly  paper,  119,  120 
Welcome,  pioneer's,  14 
Webster's  speller,  103-5 
Whig  party,  143-4,  159,  169 
Whisky.  64 

Whisky  and  molasses,  142 
"Wide-Awakes",  174 
"Wild-cat"  banks,  62 
"Who  is  this  man  Lincoln?", 

67 

Work,  strenuous,  116 
Yates,  sr.,  Governor  Richard, 

174 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


000  724  683     8 


